


alright, outta sight

by Samirant



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, because i like to cheat and write what i know, damn it jaime, making things more complicated than they have to be, unconscionable abuse of italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-10-19 11:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samirant/pseuds/Samirant
Summary: Ain’t no party like a Lannister party (whether you meant to invite a Lannister or not).





	1. i'm gonna try to make you love me too

**Author's Note:**

> This story is solely from Brienne’s POV, but you only need the songs with each chapter to know Jaime's mindset. The first is a song by The Temptations called Get Ready, a song so quintessentially the soft Jaime Lannister of fanfic as we know and love him. It's been constantly looping through my head as I wrote this first section. 
> 
> If for some reason the 60's don't have a musical cornerstone in your brain (you should have been raised better, just saying), you can listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_ZGdhoeOcE).

Dr. Brienne Tarth fought off a yawn as she listened to the heart tones of her newest patient, thinking longingly of the cot she’d had to abandon when her pager went off. It had to be one of the most uncomfortable beds she’d ever slept in, but anything was acceptable on the tail end of a thirty-six hour stretch at the hospital, a byblow of Dr. Tarly’s paternity leave. She might have even been able to sleep through the last of her shift if it hadn’t been for the absolute bane of her existence, Dr. Jaime Lannister. 

As much as she wanted to glare at Jaime as he stood in the doorway, Brienne focused on the recuperating man before her, his condition far better than when he’d originally arrived. She finished her assessment and gave his vitals a serious study before turning with a pleasant, reassuring smile. “You may have given us a scare, Mr. Westerling, but it appears you’re responding well to your treatment. You’re very lucky that you came in when you did, heart attacks are not something that will resolve on their own.”

“Lucky for him that I was the on call cardio, you mean,” Dr. Lannister said from where he leaned against the door jamb. He gave Brienne a wink; Brienne barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Come on, a thirteen minute door to intervention time? I know I’m good, but that’s got to break a record.”

“And I’m sure you’ll look it up to confirm it,” Brienne couldn’t help but retort. She turned back to the patient and squeezed his shoulder, glad to see his relieved expression. “I’m actually heading out for the day, but Dr. Stark will be rounding this morning. You’ll be in great hands.”

“Sure you can’t stay?” Jaime asked as she walked out of the room toward the nurses station. “Now that he’s on your service and all…”

“And he’ll be on my service when I’m back in twelve hours,” Brienne told him and Jaime made a grumpy face at her. She made a show of looking at her watch. “Make that eleven hours. He wouldn’t be on my service at all if you hadn’t had me paged especially. Why you did that - again - I don’t know. I’m not the only internal medicine physician available in this entire hospital. Now instead of going home at a reasonable time, I’m stuck here for another thirty minutes writing orders because you refuse to do them yourself.”

“Well, you just answered your own question,” Jaime replied with a shit-eating grin. 

Brienne, free from her patient’s view, finally glared at him. “You are the worst.”

Jaime laughed at her. “You say that, but then you still consult on my patients.”

“I consult on your patients because that is my job,” Brienne said pointedly. 

“And because you are in awe of working with a cardiovascular god, admit it. Hey, uh, heads up.” He tossed something in her direction and Brienne’s hands automatically clapped together to catch what turned out to be a granola bar. It was even a good one, the kind with chocolate chips that the doctor’s lounge usually ran low on. “My thanks for coming this way even if you were about to leave. As if you would deny me, but still.”

She wanted to shove away his preening face, nevermind that she was honestly impressed by his actions in saving Mr. Westerling’s life, the situation had sounded quite dire when he’d first presented. Brienne would have thanked him for the snack too, but Jaime would probably take that as encouragement to hang around and badger her further. So instead she only sat in a rolly chair to badge into a workstation. As it booted up, she opened up the crinkly wrapper to take a bite and hoped he’d go away. It didn’t work.

“I heard something interesting before you got here. Margaery mentioned you’re planning a get together?” He leaned on the counter before her, reaching over to wave his hand over the computer screen when she refused to look up. “Come on, Brienne, do we really need to play this game?”

“What game, Dr. Lannister?” Brienne asked as she chewed, swatting his hand aside so she could pull up the patient’s medical record. “The one where you pester me until I answer whatever senseless question you have and finally leave me be? That game?”

Jaime only grinned again.

Sighing, Brienne admitted, “Yes, I’m having a thing, I guess. Margaery wants to see my house, so I’m having people over, if anyone even _wants_ to go. It’s not… it’s not a big deal. I wouldn’t even be doing it if she hadn’t asked especially.”

“And you always say yes when people ask _especially_,” he replied. 

“It’s a curse,” Brienne muttered as she threw away the wrapper, disappointed she’d finished so quickly. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jaime looked away from her, hopefully picking up on her cues that she needed to concentrate on the work before her, the silence stretching for several seconds before he added, “First time having people over? It’s been a while since I heard you bought the place.”

“It needed a lot of work,” Brienne answered vaguely, resolutely keeping her eyes on the computer, “there were professionals for the bigger stuff, but I did a lot myself. Took time.”

“All on your own? Tracks that between you and your boyfriend, you’re the one with the toolbelt.”

Brienne spared him a brief, confused glance. “Boyfr-? Do you mean Hyle?”

“Yeah, the guy you brought to the hospital Sevenmas celebration, with the hair and… teeth, I guess. It’s kind of hard to remember what he looked like.” Jaime frowned and put his hand out in the air, floating it up and down as if trying to recall the measure of the other man’s height and failing. 

“Can’t say you’re wrong on that,” Brienne said, looking away but allowing herself to smile at the utterly perfect non description of her ex. It may have been a little unfair, especially when Jaime was the kind of guy that was seared into a person’s memory from first glance, with the golden hair and unreasonably green eyes - 

Brienne gave herself an inward shake and said, “We broke up ages ago, before I bought the place. It’s _why_ I bought the place, I was sick of living downtown.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It was quiet enough for several moments that she actually hazarded a hope that Jaime had finally wandered away, perhaps distracted by a shiny object. 

No such luck. 

“So what time should I be there?”

“Be where?”

“The thing. Your place. Where, when, what time?”

Brienne stared up at him, stunned. “You - you want to go?” 

“Yeah, I want to see this new place, why not? See all the work that you put in. Plus, I always like a good party,” he replied with a shrug. 

Brienne shook her head, bemused by his sudden interest. Until this exact moment, Jaime had been a strictly hospital-only phenomenon and she was convinced in her belief that it was better that way. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the awkwardness if she encountered him elsewhere. And in her _house_? Nothing good could come of it.

“It’s not a party.” Brienne said bracingly. She could have stopped here, she should have stopped there, but then the words just fell out of her mouth, “I don’t even know where I’d start, maybe some hors d'oeuvres and wine. Sansa said canapes are a thing, whatever the hells those are. And Margaery suggested a sit down setting, so that’s something. A dinner might be… okay. But, you know. Very casual. Just a few people.” 

Jaime sneered faintly and Brienne’s stomach dropped like lead even as she berated herself for letting the anxiety she’d been penning up burst forward in word vomit. Before her was a man who could make her feel self-conscious and off kilter with a stray look and he still managed to get her to engage with him despite herself. It was maddening. “No offense, Tarth, but that sounds dull as hell.”

“Well, Lannister, it’s not like I was inviting you in the first place,” Brienne snapped back, choosing to strike instead of pretending poise, as she usually did. Sue her, she was _tired_. From lack of sleep or from months, years, of Jaime Lannister setting her on edge, either applied. 

“Say what you really mean, why don’t you?” Jaime retorted, his expression gone sour. 

“As you always do, I suppose?” Brienne asked tersely. “What do you care, if it’s guaranteed to be dull as hell?”

He opened his mouth as if to continue their barbs before taking a breath and dropping his shoulders. “I hadn’t meant to say it like that.”

“Whatever,” Brienne mumbled and stared at the computer again. _Please go away, you’ve gotten what you stayed for_, she begged silently. 

Jaime waved his hands over the screen again until Brienne turned back to him, exhausted from more than lack of sleep. How their interactions could never stay agreeable and professional, she couldn’t explain, but Jaime had had that effect on her from the moment they’d met. 

Dr. Stark - Catelyn, not Robb from orthopaedics or Sansa from pediatrics, though Brienne long counted them all as friends - had been introducing her to the ICU as their newest resident when Jaime had burst through the doors, barking orders at the staff with his critically ill patient, who’d begun a spiralling during their transfer. He’d clearly seen Brienne as extraneous, flicking his eyes up to her face and summarily dismissing whatever he saw. Behavior like that would have once left her wilting, but instead something had welled up in her that day. Maybe it was because she had her mentor by her side, or that she’d promised herself that she would be stronger at her new hospital, or maybe something told her if she let this man put her aside even once, she would never regain her ground. 

So instead of fading back, Brienne had raised her voice, calmly but firmly calling out instructions, managing to drown out Jaime’s blustering, commanding the attention of the room. And it had _worked_. The patient was stabilized, the staff knew from the beginning that she could keep a cool head and Dr. Stark had looked on with pride. But Jaime? It had taken weeks before he’d spoken to her with anything but disdain and even then he’d critiqued and second guessed almost every order she made. In her newfound assuredness, each time Brienne forcefully dug in her heels until he backed off. 

Then somewhere along the way, he’d started paging her, and only her, for his patients. Brienne could only speculate that he had found a new way to punish her for, as he’d termed it, her _uppity know-it-all bullshit_. The direct quote from that day that still rang in her head from time to time, no matter that with time their working relationship had somehow shifted from adversarial to one of grudging respect on both sides. He may have become less mocking over their couple years of working together, chatty and even bafflingly easygoing with a _call-me-Jaime-already-damn-it-Brienne_ thrown in on occasion, but it was hard to forget those terrible first few months. 

“I didn’t,” Jaime said, conciliatory this time, wandering back into his _hey, we’re both grown ups, I can prove it_ attitude he picked up anytime after he was especially Jaime-Lannister-y. “I’ve just been to a lot of sit down dinners and, I swear, they are all mind-numbing and blend together and not one person enjoys themselves, especially the host. Or hostess. You get what I mean. They’re so… stuffy and you… you’re not stuffy.”

Brienne gave him a suspicious glance as he continued. “You try to present that all-business Dr. Tarth facade, but I’ve known you long enough by now to see otherwise. You’ve been waiting to let loose for… years, I suspect.”

_Uppity know-it-all bullshit_, Brienne thought to herself, frowning as Jaime’s paradoxical words clashed in her head. 

“I would even bet that all this time you’ve just been waiting for a chance to throw an absolute rager now that you’ve got the means and place to do it.”

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. _How did he do that?_ Two minutes before, she’d been ready to throttle him. But she couldn’t help but grasp onto the friendlier words he’d tossed at her like a life preserver. “Yeah, that’s me, Party Animal Tarth, just like they said in high school.”

“_Really_?”

“Of course not.” _Idiot_, she wanted to say, but didn’t. “I was quiet and awkward as hell, not unlike I am today. And you must know how popular kids like that are.” She gave him a thumbs down and blew a raspberry, quietly pleased when Jaime laughed in response. 

“See? That’s what I mean! Come on, don’t you want to see what happens?” Jaime leaned forward, forearms flush against the countertop, a mischievous smile flitting across his face. “You spend so much time here, racing from place to place, always focused on your patients. Take a break. Do something for yourself.”

“And what, throwing an ‘absolute rager’,” it was embarrassing to use air quotes, but Brienne felt it was appropriate, “is doing something for myself?”

“It’s something different, at least. You can’t possibly believe you’re that kid anymore,” Jaime replied. “What’s so wrong with trying something new? _Especially_ when it’s to celebrate something you’ve worked so hard for?”

It sounded amazing, but also completely deluded. But Brienne found it difficult to actually say the words when Jaime was looking at her so intently. 

“Tell you what, I’ll give you a hand, you provide the place and I’ll take care of everything else,” Jaime said cheerfully when she didn’t reply. “Between the horrible dinners my sister’s thrown and the full-blown bacchanalias my brother likes to have, I think I can sort out something that falls somewhere in the middle. If you’ll let me. I’ve been itching to do something fun, but my co-op is too strict, I can’t do anything where I live.”

“Bacchanalia,” Brienne said flatly.

“I’ve seen Tyrion provide a bowl of condoms by the front door, but I gather that’s not really your style.” The almost dirty smirk on his face made something in Brienne’s chest catch in a way she would deny to her last breath if anyone ever asked. 

Brienne tried to discreetly swallow before she said, “No, I’d say it isn’t,” but the way Jaime’s mouth spread into a full blown smile informed her failure. 

“I figured, but like I said, we can find a happy middle. If I’m invited that is,” Jaime raised his eyebrows until she reluctantly nodded and he slapped the countertop with both hands. “Great. I’ll text you. You won’t regret this, Tarth, I promise.”

Watching as he walked away, Brienne was certain that she already did.

###### 

Previous to their conversation that early morning, Brienne only had Jaime’s number in her phone so they could exchange notes on their patients, their exchanges short and to the point as they traded room numbers or recommended an interesting article in a medical review. But after that morning, Jaime became relentless in messaging her, to the point she became used to waking up to several texts, ranging from asking what kind of music she liked or the size of her back yard - demanding pictures with it - or if she preferred Dornish Red to Arbor Gold.

_I thought wine was too stuffy_, Brienne wrote as she made quick strides toward the emergency room to assess a new consult, greeting other employees as they walked past. 

_wine isn’t the problem, it’s the fear of knocking it over onto a fancy tablecloth that makes it less enjoyable_, he wrote back,_ how do you feel about IronBorn Vodka?_

_Sounds like it’s the source of many a bad decision_, Brienne typed.

_excellent, I’ll add it to the list._ She could almost see his smug grin as she read his words. 

He fell into step with her on another day, tossing an apple in her direction as he asked, “You have a grill, right?”

“I can get one? I’d planned on getting one eventually.” Brienne took only a cursory look at the apple before she bit down, keeping her rapid pace to the ICU. 

Dr. Payne, her current intern on rotation, lagged a few steps behind but Jaime managed to keep up with her, saying, “You said the back patio is pretty big? And there’s a dock on the lake? Those photos would help me figure some stuff out, unless I can come over when you’re free.”

“I’ll send them,” Brienne mumbled hurriedly around a mouthful of fruit.

“Uh, good. Perfect,” Jaime replied before he veered off into another hallway, calling out over his shoulder, “Get a grill!”

“He is so weird,” Brienne muttered. Podrick nodded solemnly in agreement. Hours later she found another snack bar in her pocket and ignored the funny feeling in her stomach as she ate it in three quick bites and then raced off to evaluate a post-op patient. A simple hunger pang, surely.

When she was home, as she finally took the pictures Jaime had requested, Brienne found herself reviewing the cottage with a critical eye. It had been an impulse purchase after that final break up with Hyle, who had always preferred to rent a place in downtown King’s Landing. They’d been on and off for years, but after working at the hospital for over a year (and truthfully, finally feeling fulfilled by her work there), she’d found herself done with Hyle’s tepidness, the way he’d rather go out with his mates than stay in when she was bone-tired, the way he seemed more like a roommate than a lover. Brienne couldn’t pretend that whatever they had cobbled together was working anymore and it’d been a relief to finally split. 

She’d only planned to look at apartments before falling down the rabbit hole of realtor listings. At no point had she expected to find something, but it only took one visit and Brienne knew she’d found a place to make her own. It was a ramshackle two-storey cottage on a generous plot of land with a lake view, large trees in the backyard, three cozy bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms and a plethora of old build problems. It was much too big for only her, but the thought of anyone else snapping it up had caused a twist in her chest so painful that she was signing the mortgage within days. 

It had taken a good amount of elbow grease and care, hiring a construction service to fix the worst of the issues like the broken dock, to refinish the hardwood floors, repair widespread unreliable wiring and the leaky roof. Brienne took on the smaller projects herself between shifts at the hospital, changing tile in the bathroom, painting walls and hanging up new fixtures. It had slowly come together to become something she loved. For the first time since she’d moved away from her father’s isle, Brienne felt as if she may have found the place to make a home. 

She said as much to Jaime when he asked about it, typing _I love it, I got to pick what I wanted and I don’t have any stupid futons or beanbags. _

_of course the bland man loved beanbags, you kicked him to the curb and improved your decor all at the same time, double win_

Brienne waffled on whether to respond with laughing emoji, finally just writing _My couch is a vast improvement. It’s perfect for napping._

Text bubbles popped up and down for a minute or so before she read _i bet it’s one of those ridiculously comfortable ones that’s extra long so your feet don’t hang off _

Maybe at one time she would have found insult in what Jaime wrote, but he wasn’t wrong, that’s exactly what she had bought, so Brienne sent back _It is_. 

She fell asleep before he wrote again and woke in the morning to _i’ll have to check it out for myself, maybe get one of my own_

_Tarth?_

_you’re asleep, aren’t you_

_rest well, Brienne you work too hard_

She didn’t know what to write back, so she didn’t until that afternoon when his next message popped up asking what she thought about Cards Against Humanity, whatever that was. 

Even though there were a few unfinished projects and hopelessly blank walls, a result of her uncertainty of where to start, Brienne was finally inviting people to see the progress she’d made. _As if anyone will even show up_, Brienne thought to herself. She’d never thrown a party in her life, it wasn’t as if she’d ever had the opportunity before. High school had been a nightmare, with popular classmates making it clear that she was never going to be welcome among them, no matter how many medals she won in fencing or track and field or with the soccer team. College had been almost all business, earning her microbiology degree, and medical school was more of the same with only the addition of fumbling into her ambivalent relationship with Hyle. 

Now there she was: thirty-two, single and with a small handful of friends that she hoped wouldn’t judge her for inviting them to the world’s dullest gathering, despite Jaime’s bewildering attempt to liven it up. 

Brienne ran her thumb over the text exchanges and shook her head in confusion. Perhaps she’d been unfair to Jaime and he didn’t dislike her as she’d always thought or, still likely, he was bored enough to take her on as a project. There was little she could do to explain the man’s whims. 

As if he’d known she was thinking of him, a worrying notion, Jaime’s text chain chimed with a new message: _Can you come to the procedure area? Dr. Lannister’s got a question. _

For a fleeting moment Brienne wondered if something had finally broken in the man’s brain and speaking in the third person was the first sign of worse things to come. She was promptly relieved of the assumption when an additional message said _This is Margaery, by the way. He’s still working and my phone is dead. _

Brienne was making her way to the procedures lab when another message came through, saying _You guys sure do text a lot. Something you want to tell me, Brienne?_

_Yeah, don’t go through other people’s phones, it’s rude_, Brienne wrote back and resisted the urge to reread her own side to see what Margaery saw. It was harmless, truly, just messages about the party, and then pictures of her house, the couch conversation and a smattering of other things. The most ridiculous, and definitely inappropriate, was a random guessing game where Jaime’d insisted she figure out what Dr. Greyjoy had last pulled out of a patient’s ass, using only yes or no answers. 

(It was a clarinet. Brienne had needed to put away her classical albums until she could completely forget knowing this.)

She arrived to the lab to find Margaery Tyrell, the charge nurse, standing at the observation window. Jaime was still scrubbed in for a case on the other side. The movement at the window caught his attention and she heard him say “Tarth!”, sounding tinny through the intercom. The edges of his eyes crinkled, a tell that he was smiling under the mask that covered the lower half of his face. 

“You actually came,” Margaery said assessingly, her surprise valid as Brienne always waited to see patients after their were transferred out; her presence in the lab now was an anomaly and they both knew it. If Sansa hadn’t introduced them, Brienne would have probably never met Margaery in the first place. 

Margaery was still holding Jaime’s phone in her hand, but showed off that the screen was dark as she said, “I’m behaving, I promise.”

“Low bar to clear, but I’m proud of you,” Brienne said dryly. Leaning forward, she pressed the intercom button and asked, “New consult?”

“Nah, this lucky lady gets to go home, I just wanted to see what you’re doing for lunch, I’m almost done here,” Jaime called back. 

Brienne let go of the button, giving it the stare she wanted to send in Jaime’s direction, as well as resolutely avoiding Margaery humming with interest. She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before asking, “That’s it?”

“What, the pleasure of my company isn’t enough?” Jaime turned to speak to his patient, “That should be enough, don’t you say Mrs. Crakehall?”

“You’re so pretty,” came the the drowsy answer. Mrs. Crakehall was clearly doped to the gills. 

“Now what kind of man would I be to disagree with that?” Jaime said back gallantly. He followed this by tugging off his gear, gloves snapping free, and looked back at her. “Give me a few and I’ll be out, we might as well hammer out some details before this weekend.”

“Fine,” Brienne replied tersely, wishing she’d ignored his summoning as she’d done every time before. It would have spared her the glint in Margaery’s eye, if nothing else. Speaking only to her friend, she said, “Don’t. Just don’t.”

“This weekend?” Margaery grinned, all teeth and revelling with it. “What’s this weekend?”

Brienne’s stomach sank like a stone and she was embarrassed by the plaintive note in her voice as she replied, “The party. Margaery, you said you would go.”

There was a beat of obvious confusion before Margaery shook her head and said, “Yes! No, yes, that’s not, yes, I’m definitely going, but that’s not what I thought he meant.”

Brienne stared. Margaery stared back. 

Finally, slowly, Brienne said, “So you’re going. To the party.”

“Yes,” Margaery said firmly.

Brienne sighed, relieved. “Thank the gods, I don’t know what I would do if you cancelled, this whole thing would be for nothing. Catelyn is already out of town and if you don’t go, Sansa probably won’t, then Robb will beg off and then I’ll just be sitting around my living room with a bunch of wine that nobody but Lannister will probably drink.”

“Are we talking about the same party?” Margaery cocked her head and wrinkled her nose, an expression that would likely look tragic on Brienne’s face, but made Margaery look all the more adorable for it. “Your place, this weekend? I got the email from Dr. Lannister, I’d been meaning to ask you about it.”

“He’s completely taken over it,” Brienne almost whined, more from the bizarreness of it all than any resentment that Jaime had taken so much out of her hands. 

“I am… so confused,” Margaery said slowly.

“Be confused, just be there,” Brienne told her, speaking a little faster once she saw Jaime coming their way, “maybe after I’ll try to explain, but gods know I still don’t know what’s going on.”

She stopped short when Jaime drew up beside them, grinning broadly and tugging his phone out of Margaery’s hand. “Thanks, Tyrell. I’ll be back in an hour. Brienne?”

“Dr. Lannister,” Brienne said, a little stiffly.

He sighed. “I swear, Dr. Tarth, I will get a Jaime out of you one day.”

Margaery made a strange hiccuping sound, the nurse hastily covering her mouth with a hand and coughing into it when they both turned toward her. 

“Margaery, you all right?” Brienne asked, concerned.

Her friend coughed again before waving a hand at them both. “You know what? I’m just going to… I’m going to do nothing. I think that’s best. I’ll see you this weekend, Brienne. And I’ll see you in an hour, Jaime.”

“See, she gets it!”

“You leave me out of this,” Margaery retorted, spinning on her heel to walk away. “You got this, Brienne. Godsdamn finally, I’d say.”

Before Brienne could ponder on what she’d said, Jaime grabbed her by the elbow, his hand warm through her lab coat, and guided her out of the lab. “So, guess what I heard from Greyjoy today.”

Brienne shook her head quickly. “Please don’t.”

Jaime chuckled and said, “All right, your loss. So, this weekend, what time should I be over?”

###### 

“Whaaaaat,” Brienne grumbled as she pulled open her front door, wincing at the late morning sunlight. The persistent knocking had amalgamated itself into her dream, where Jaime was thumping his palms on a computer made of granola in order to gain her attention. It was only fitting that the man in question was the one making the ruckus at her door in the first place. She asked, pathetically even to her own ears, “Why do you never let me sleep?” 

“Nice to see you, too,” Jaime replied, clearing his throat as Brienne practically zombie-walked away from him, into her living room and crawled onto her couch, sleepily deciding that it would take too much effort to go back upstairs to her bedroom. “I like your place.”

Brienne blindly threw out an arm to point out, “Bathroom, kitchen, office, other rooms upstairs. That’s it, that’s the tour.”

“Wow, what a hostess, can’t imagine why you would need me here at all,” Jaime replied. She felt him nudge her legs to the side so he could sit, annoyed that he hadn’t taken the perfectly reasonable armchair or loveseat. After a moment, he tugged at the throw on the back of the couch and covered her with it. “So is this the normal thing, are you always this cranky when you wake up? I thought it was just me.”

“It’s both, but also definitely just you,” Brienne mumbled into the pillow. 

Jaime laughed softly, the warm thrum of it making something flutter in her stomach in reply. She forced her face into the pillow even further when he patted the back of calves and stood up. “Go ahead, take a little time. I’ll get started.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Brienne groused, even as she began to drift off.

When she opened her eyes again, more alert this time, Brienne sat up and looked around in confusion. The sound of the back door opening and closing startled her for a moment before she remembered letting Jaime into the house. She looked down at herself, realized she’d answered the door in a threadbare sleep shirt and loose boxer shorts and rubbed her face in dismay. “Hey,” she called out, wrapping the throw blanket around herself, “I’m up.”

“When I said to take some time, I didn’t mean a whole other REM cycle,” Jaime called back from where he was making noises in the kitchen. “But I got some stuff done, so at least there’s that.” 

“I stayed late last night,” Brienne explained as she made quick work of the stairs to grab a change of clothes from her room. She came back down to add, “Had some complications on the patient that Dr. Seaworth asked me to evaluate, didn’t want to go before I was sure they’d be all right.”

“I’d say that you could have left that for someone else, but I know you better than that,” Jaime was replying when she entered the kitchen. He was fixing up a pot of coffee and smiling to himself; Brienne’s stomach flipped and she refused to speculate if it was the heavenly scent or the sight of Jaime leaning against her counter and holding out a fresh cup that brought it about. “It was only a matter of time before someone figured out my secret weapon.”

Brienne cocked an eyebrow at him as she took her first sip. 

“You, I mean,” Jaime said casually. “I always rest easier when I know you’re following my patients. Probably should have refrained from saying as much to Davos, now I’ll have to share.”

“Share… me?” Brienne tilted her head and stared at him.

“Yeah, you’ve been my go-to internal med doc for ages, why else would I consult you all the time?” Jaime asked with a half-grin.

Brienne took a long, too-hot sip before venturing, “I guess I thought you just wanted to irritate me.”

“Well, that too, but I wouldn’t ask you to treat my patients if I didn’t believe they’d be getting the best care possible.” An uncomfortable look came to Jaime’s face that surprised her even further. “I thought you knew that.”

Brienne could only shrug restlessly. 

“You… didn’t know.” Jaime frowned. “How could you not know that?”

“Since we met the way we did, I guess? You know, with…”

Jaime gave her an intense look when she trailed off and prodded, “With what?”

“You know, the ‘uppity know-it-all bullshit’,” Brienne said tiredly. 

“What?” Jaime looked puzzled before his face cleared with realization and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit. That. Brienne. You have to know that wasn’t… I mean, I did say that, I remember that now, but I didn’t think that you thought I meant it.”

Brienne sighed roughly. “I know you meant it, you were an ass to me for weeks, months even. What else was I supposed to think?”

“That I was _embarrassed_,” Jaime said on burst of air and crossed his arms. “That procedure, it’d gone so well and then we got upstairs and everything went to shit. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees and you came sailing in and fixed it all. Maybe I was pissed that someone else fixed my mess, but I saw even then how smart you are.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Brienne gripped her coffee cup more tightly, ignoring how it scalded her palms. “I thought you hated me.”

“Even now? Brienne.” 

The dimmed look in his green eyes was sincerely upset in a way she’d never seen before. It was enough that she could admit, “Maybe not now, and it’s not like I’ve dwelt on it, it’s just there in the back of my mind, that that’s how you’ve thought of me, deep down.”

“For a brief moment when I was caught up in everything, yeah. But not since. I don’t think that way of you at all. I respect the hell out of you, Brienne. I thought you had forgotten the whole damn thing.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Brienne said quietly. 

Jaime pushed his hands through his hair, leaving it ruffled in his wake. Brienne’s fingers itched to smooth it back. “I was an ass because that’s how I am with anybody that’s new, I test them out, learn how to push their buttons, check to see if who they are matches up to what they look like on paper. I thought you were just tougher than anyone else because you’re always so damned professional. I didn’t know I was fighting against my own shitty first impression. I’m sorry for it, I really am, that’s never been how I actually thought of you.”

Silence fell between them, Brienne’s mind too thrown to put much together than to consider the past couple years worth of interactions, suddenly looking at them from a different angle: not Jaime torturing her by bringing her onto his cases, but seeking her out because he valued her skills, his teasing just teasing and not purposefully hurtful, or the way he’d sidle up to her in the lounge, probably trying to be actually friendly as opposed to wheedling at her so she would leave. 

“Oh, gods,” Brienne finally moaned into her coffee cup, “this is the weirdest way I’ve ever made a friend.”

“Is that what just happened?” Jaime asked, clearly flabbergasted. “Why the hell else would I be here helping you out?”

“I don’t know, I don’t understand half of what you do,” Brienne laughed, puzzled and still surprised. 

Jaime stared at seemingly at nothing in particular and distantly said, “This explains so much.”

Brienne couldn’t help it, she laughed again.

###### 

They both finished their cups before Jaime invited her to check out his work. He’d accomplished more during her nap than she’d expected and Brienne said as much.

“It’s not all that hard, I’ve helped Tyrion set up his backyard a million times,” Jaime replied, tapping at the colorful lanterns he’d hung from the roof overhanging the patio, making them swing. He’d also scattered out a few coolers in the area she’d cleared as requested, though she didn’t imagine anyone would make it outside. Even so, she allowed Jaime to lead her to the dock on the lake, where he’d dragged an extension cord and wrapped the posts with water-proof lights.

“We’ll turn them on at dusk, it’ll look amazing,” Jaime said, poking at his handiwork, “it’s an incredible view.”

“I think it’s about eighty percent of the reason why I bought the house.” Brienne put her hands in her back pockets and looked over the lake with its placid waters and neighbors in the far distance. “It’s not the same as growing up seaside, but it was the closest I could get without breaking the bank on a beachfront condo with half the space and no yard at all. Once I saw I could have it for myself, I couldn’t pass it up.”

“I hear that,” Jaime agreed, a strangely soft note in his voice as he looked to her and back to the view. “It suits you. The whole house does, it’s very… Brienne.”

“Tall and white?”

Jaime snorted, but said, “Warm and peaceful.”

Brienne stilled, but didn’t look back at him as she quietly said, “Thanks.”

“It’s the truth.” 

She could feel him staring at her profile and knew her face was heating in response. Her mind was suddenly filled with the numerous times they’d stood like this at work, when she’d felt his eyes on her and she’d assumed that it was to find fault, to silently rebuke. If she had been wrong, and it wasn’t that… Brienne didn’t know what to think anymore. 

It was a bit before he added, “Hope you don’t mind, but I told my brother and a couple friends of ours that they should come on over a little early, though not to expect what he encourages at his own parties. It won’t hurt to have some experts on hand anyway.”

“Thanks for that,” Brienne said with a wry tilt of her lips. “Any extra person will help, maybe I’ll even have to bring out a spare chair or two.”

Jaime gave her a sidelong look. “Brienne, that’s… how many people do you think are coming tonight?”

“I don’t know, five? Six?” She counted in her head: Margaery, Sansa, maybe Robb and if he did, perhaps Jon, who didn’t work with them, but always managed to get roped into their occasional outings. She’d told Jaime about them when he’d insisted on sending out the email to inform them of the party; it had seemed so silly she hadn’t bothered to open it when it popped up in her inbox. “Why, did someone already cancel?”

Jaime fumbled with his phone, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. 

“It’s okay if they did, I expected as much,” Brienne said, trying to not sound too disappointed. Even Margaery had probably found something better to do, no matter her reassurances. 

“Just look, will you?” Jaime shoved his phone screen at her. Brienne’s pushed his hand away to actually read it, ignoring the feel of his skin against her fingers as he scrolled down an extensive list of RSVPs, most of them indicating yes, they’d like to attend Brienne’s Housewarming Bash.

“Bash,” Brienne said dumbly, dropping her hand down in astonishment as the list _kept going_.

“How did you… Brienne, why in the world would you think no one would want to come?”

She could feel her face flushing again. “Because, I don’t know, why would they?”

Jaime’s mouth dropped open and he stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Why? Maybe because you’re one of the most decent people that walks around that place? And you’re insanely smart but actually teach the interns instead of talking down to them? Or that you treat everyone like a human being instead of being a self-congratulating ass like Baelish or creep like Qyburn? Who I made sure, by the way, are both working tonight so we don’t have to and they can’t come, you’re welcome.”

“I… okay,” Brienne couldn’t find much more to say, suddenly tongue-tied and a little sheepish at Jaime’s warm, if impatient, words. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Granted, rule of thumb says at least a quarter of them probably won’t show for some reason or another, but it’ll still be a pretty good turn out.” Jaime hesitated briefly. “Unless this is too much. I should have checked with you, but I thought you knew, I didn’t think you minded, but if you want to cance-”

“I don’t,” Brienne stopped him short and Jaime looked absurdly relieved. “I’m just surprised and, shit, I don’t have nearly enough food or drinks. I’m going to have to make a run to the store - ”

“I swear, I’m starting to realize that you tune out at least three-quarters of what I say,” Jaime mused aloud. “I told you, I have that covered. Food, drinks, deejay, done.”

Brienne sputtered, “Deejay?”

“Don’t be too impressed, it’s just my cousin Lancel and his soundsystem, he owed me a favor. Damn idiot’s always trying to find himself and this is his latest thing,” Jaime said with a wave of his hand, “he should really be paying me to let him set up some speakers and play his Spotify list.”

Brienne sighed, amused against her will. 

“Look, clearly there’s some hang ups here that you don’t want to talk about, but I’ll say it again, you’re not that kid anymore,” Jaime said with so much certainty that Brienne finally looked at him straight on. “You are… you’re Dr. Brienne Tarth, you charge around the hospital with your white coat waving behind you like a godsdamn superhero and I don’t think you even realize how many people look up to you. And I swear if you make a joke about your height, I will immediately shove you into this lake.”

She snapped her mouth shut. 

“You are good and intelligent and someone that I, personally, like to see - and work with - everyday. And if you can win over a bastard like me as easily as you did, apparently without even trying, you’ve got to believe that others think well of you, too.” 

The expression on his face was basically daring her to argue back, but Brienne was finding it simply impossible over the affection that surged in her chest for the man standing before her. And with that, she was done fighting it. All of it. So she just said, “Okay then, Jaime, what do we do next?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a simple text exchange)  
Jaime: _holy shit, she’s single SINGLE she dumped that asshole forever ago_  
Jaime: _shit, i’ve wasted so much fucking time already_  
Jaime: _TYRION HELP ME_  
Tyrion: _Just ask her out, Jaime. It’s not rocket science. As a literal rocket scientist, I can assure you of this. You did ask her out, yes?_  
Jaime: _i told her I’d help her throw a housewarming party you know, so we can spend some time together _  
Tyrion: …  
Tyrion: …  
Tyrion: …  
Tyrion: _For fucks sake. Where did I go wrong with you?_  
Jaime: _it’s a good plan, that way i can ease her into it she’s squirrely_  
Tyrion: _People trust you with the hearts, if only they fucking knew. _  
Jaime: _less judging, more helping_  
Tyrion: _All the judging, brother, ALL OF IT._


	2. you should put your guard down, we can be some stars now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two! The original chapter was written last week, but I didn't feel quite right about it, so I went to the amazing slipsthrufingers for help. She guided me through a rewrite that made this the monster chapter I am now proud to present. K, you are awesome and I'm so thankful for your kindness in helping a needy, floundering writer half a world away from you. :D I may have had to hack apart my story a bit to make it better, but if it worked for Jaime Lannister, it can work for me, too. 
> 
> Also, apologies (?) for upping the rating to E. Brienne got carried away and I decided to err on the side of caution.
> 
> This chapter's song is Duckwrth’s Michuul, which is wildly different from The Temptations, but has some definite eager-Jaime vibes to it. The amazing beat makes me want to dance every time it plays and it has some fitting Braime lyrics, the chapter title included. Listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gYfvEbp1No).

Jaime was wrestling the grill out of its box when her doorbell trilled, prompting Brienne to run across the house to answer; it opened it to reveal someone much shorter than she’d originally anticipated, but it could only be one person with hair such a familiar golden hue. “Tyrion?”

“Brienne.” Not a question. “You’re just as Jaime described. Nice to finally meet you.”

What the hell did _that_ mean? Brienne could only stare as her mind raced with possibilities, a too-long lull falling between them.

Her attention returned to the men still on her doorstep when Tyrion looked back at the rough-looking guy behind him and muttered, “I’m starting to see why he needed help.”

“Excuse me, sorry,” Brienne stepped away, inviting them in, “I think I just got overwhelmed.”

“Not an uncommon affliction when I walk into a room,” Tyrion replied with a smile very much like his brother’s, though it made Jaime’s look somewhat gentler in comparison. “You have a lovely home. This is Bronn, by the way. Say hello, Bronn.”

“I’m not a fucking parrot, Lannister,” Bronn paused a beat, “but, yeah, hello.”

Tyrion smiled again and Brienne couldn’t help but like him instantly.

“We’re still working out back and Jaime said there’s still a couple more people on their way,” Brienne told them as she led them through the house. “I’m afraid I’m kind of at a loss.”

“Well, that’s exactly why we’re here,” Tyrion replied, smacking his hands together and nodding approvingly when he stepped onto the back patio. “And we certainly have a lot to work with, don’t we?”

“Oh, this will do very nicely,” Bronn said once he took in the view. 

“Rein it in, we’re not planning for your usual night of debauchery,” Jaime called out, hunched by the grill still spread out in several pieces over the ground. “Give me a hand, will you?”

“I’m going to be chained to that damn thing all afternoon, aren’t I?” Bronn grumbled as he went towards Jaime anyway. 

“If you are, they’re the only chains I’m allowing tonight,” Jaime said back. 

Tyrion frowned at his brother, though his eyes were definitely amused. Turning to Brienne, he asked, “He told you about the bowl, didn’t he?”

“That he did,” Brienne allowed, fervently hoping Tyrion would describe nothing further.

“That was one time and he _left within ten minutes_,” Tyrion shouted the last few words in Jaime’s direction, “so it’s not as if he has any first hand knowledge on how that particular evening turned out.”

Brienne snorted and said, “So it wasn’t as salacious as he wanted me to think then.” 

“I wouldn’t say that exactly.” Tyrion smiled placidly and walked over to join his brother and Bronn, each of them already starting to talk over the other and then both giving outraged squawks when Tyrion said, “Give it here, you idiots, let the person with an actual engineering degree tell you what to do.”

Taking advantage of their distraction, Brienne politely excused herself, went inside to her bedroom, shut the door and sat on the edge of her bed with a sigh of deep relief. 

Jaime had been by her side for hours, working together to hang more lights, spread out lawn games and then scour the house for items to stash away. Given their history, it should have been horribly awkward or devolved into their age-old bickering. But it wasn’t, and hadn’t, not even close. Instead, Brienne had been trying to tamp down a flare of panic since she’d watched Jaime diligently hide breakable items in the pantry (“_Tyrion always says it’s not a party until someone breaks something valuable, but we can at least try to avoid that._”), coming from her sudden urge to close the door behind them, shove Jaime up against the shelves and kiss him senseless. 

The idea had come unbidden to her mind and it was almost as if she could feel his lips under hers in that instant, the silkiness of his hair between her fingers and she’d frozen with how much she _wanted_ it. Wanted _Jaime_. Whatever showed on her face, it’d only made Jaime look concerned when he asked if she was feeling alright. It had taken all of her self control to not grab a hold of him when he’d brushed past her and make her mad imaginings an actuality. 

Flopping back on her bed, Brienne ran her mind over it again and again. It was obvious, she told herself, that she’d feel something for him after he’d said so many kind things, after he made it clear that he hadn’t hated her all along. It could be simple gratefulness or the fondness she’d felt when he likened her to a superhero. Who didn’t want to be seen as something larger than life, special? He was helping her throw this damned party, nothing she ever would have managed on her own. 

It was reasonable then, in response, to feel closer to Jaime, to feel a tenderness towards him, to want to put her hands and mouth all over- 

Brienne grabbed a pillow, smashed it over her face and groaned loudly. 

_What am I going to do?_ It was a miserable question to pose, but she couldn’t lay on her bed all the rest of the day and hope the problem would resolve itself. There would be literally dozens of people descending on her house in only a couple of hours and she couldn’t let herself be distracted by a suddenly immense and ludicrous awareness of Jaime Lannister. 

What would she tell Margaery or Sansa if they came to her - no, they would give into their senseless impulses, especially Margaery, consequences be damned. A likelier question was what would she tell… a patient. 

_Assess, diagnose, treat._ Brienne almost laughed at her professional reflex, but that’s exactly what she would do if a patient told of a new symptom that had come out of nowhere and ran rampant over them. So, that’s what she would do. 

Assess. Jaime Lannister was attractive. Hands down, not a question. Brienne may have never said it out loud, but Jaime Lannister was a legitimately beautiful man. The waters of Tarth were blue, the food from the hospital cafeteria was near inedible aside from Hot Pie’s bakes and Jaime Lannister was a walking testament to the rare kindness of the gods. 

Assess again. Brienne liked how Jaime Lannister looked. Always had, but the way she’d always felt on guard with him had kept it at a distance. And now that guard was crumbling. So it would be reasonable that she’d feel _stronger_ about what she’d always recognized as basic fact. Jaime Lannister was attractive and she liked the look of him. 

Assess once more. She’d been wrong this whole time, about the way Jaime saw her, what he thought of her skills, how much he valued her as a person. And without the guard in the way, Brienne could freely say that she saw him, too, in all his biting sarcasm and irreverent playfulness, buoyed by a deep well of confidence. In the beginning, it had looked like arrogance, but that had faded when she saw how well he tended to his patients, his single-mindedness in treating them to the best of his ability. She saw it every day in the patients they shared. Even when Jaime drove her crazy, she respected his work. She liked working with him.

Brienne liked _him_. 

Diagnosis, right there. Had been there all along if she just had the guts to admit it to herself to begin with. 

She was attracted to Jaime Lannister. What’s more, she liked him. Truly. 

“Fuck,” Brienne muttered out loud.

There wasn’t a suitable course of antibiotics in all of Westeros to cure that bullshit.

###### 

She forced herself to go downstairs, despite the unrelenting clangor of realization in her mind, at the sound of car doors being opened and shut outside. By the time she made it down, it was to find a young woman walking through the living room to the kitchen, a large tray in her arms. 

“Hi! Brienne, right?” She nearly overbalanced when she struggled to stick out a hand for Brienne to shake, smiling thankfully when Brienne took the surprisingly hefty weight out her arms. “I’m Pia, sorry, hope it’s not a problem, Jaime said we could come on in. That’s Peck.”

Peck gave her a nod as he came up, another two trays in his hands that Brienne helped place on the kitchen island. 

“We’re running a bit behind,” Pia said fretfully, opening up a tray to show whole vegetables and the basics for burgers and finger foods . “I’m hoping I’ll be able to catch up before anyone gets here.”

Brienne spared a brief glance through the back door as Peck opened it, saw Jaime’s upturned face, laughing at something Tyrion was saying. The sunlight glinted off his hair, the green of his eyes almost unnatural and the sound of his laugh- 

“I’ll stay. To help. Let me help you,” Brienne blurted out. “Please.”

Pia smiled brightly at her and said yes. 

They stayed together in the kitchen, Brienne lending assistance where she could as Pia flitted from one task to another, chatting away all the while. It took no time at all to learn that Jaime amused himself by calling Pia and Peck his right hand men, typically enlisting them for errands and small duties at his private practice and at home, that they’d been working with him since before Brienne did. 

“My dad was one of his patients a few years back, he loved _Doctor Jaime_,” Pia said with a slightly thicker brogue and clearly fond remembrance. “There wasn’t much that could be done in the end, maybe if he’d started seeing him sooner it would have been different.”

Pia sighed and gave Brienne a rueful smile before she resumed chopping veg. “Anyway, I think Jaime felt he had to look out for me, and Peck, too. He’s been pushing for both of us to go back to school, since I dropped out to take care of dad. Really, all the stuff he asks us to do, I know it’s just an excuse to put money in our pocket so we can build up our savings. He likes to pretend he’s a prickly one, our Jaime, but he’s just a soft heart all around.”

“I’m starting to see that.” Brienne felt it too, tugging insistently within her. _See? He was never all that bad. You just wanted him to be._

“He’s been so busy these last few weeks, planning all this out. I’ve never seen him so excited,” Pia leaned in, the air around her conspiratorial, “but now I can see why. I’d hoped to meet you for so long, with all he’s gone on about you.”

Brienne’s hands went still over her work, a small flicker of something like hope swiftly blooming in her chest. “About me?”

“You know, that he likes working with you, how he’s jealous that his patients always ask after you at their follow-ups or that you hog the best interns. There was one time, oh, Jaime was up in arms over it. You came up with some different diagnosis from his and he stomped around all day even though he said he knew you were right.”

The flicker sputtered out as quickly as it had formed. What could she have expected, for Pia to say that he’d confessed his own irrational attraction? The man had said two kind words to her and a primitive part of her brain was already running wild with audacious longing. So she forced a slight chuckle and replied, “I think I remember that day-”

“But gods, after he met your boyfriend, that was even worse,” Pia continued. “_He’s clearly an idiot! The damned fool was on his phone all night! She can do so much better_! Peck had to finally tell him to shut up already, it’s not as if he could change anything. Not then anyway.”

“What?” It came out almost as a whisper, she wasn’t certain Pia had even heard her. 

Brienne racked her brain, trying to remember the hospital Sevenmas dinner she’d attended more than a year before, the only time she’d managed to get Hyle out of the apartment to meet her coworkers. They’d lasted all of an hour before leaving, Brienne resigned to another quiet night at home, somehow lonely despite Hyle’s presence. 

There had been a moment when Jaime had approached her, just after she’d arrived, distinctly uncomfortable in her one good blouse and trousers. He hadn’t said a full sentence before Hyle joined her from parking the car; she’d made excuses to go another way after introducing the two men, not willing to be on the receiving end of Jaime’s snideness for Hyle to observe and do absolutely nothing about. Jaime had still gotten in one classic Lannister grin, all teeth and insincerity, when she’d grabbed onto Hyle’s arm to pull him towards the Starks instead. 

It’d been a relief to get away, to escape what she’d thought were cutting glances and sneering contempt. 

_But he never meant it that way_. Brienne could feel her breath coming just a little faster, her thoughts swirling as she broke apart that too-brief interaction and reformed it with her new knowledge of his true opinion. _So many things I thought he meant and I was wrong about that, too. _

“Brienne?” Pia gave her a worried look. “You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine,” Brienne muttered automatically. She licked her lips and admitted a partial truth, “I’m just nervous about tonight, it’s very new for me. All of this.”

“Well, Jaime’s got your back for it, you’re in good hands,” Pia said warmly and finished chopping with a flourish. “And I’m caught up! I guess Jaime wasn’t wrong.”

Brienne took in a shuddering breath, her mind still reeling with uncertain and desperate thoughts. “What’s that?”

“Everything’s better if Dr. Tarth’s involved, of course.”

###### 

The remaining time passed almost too quickly, the sunlight mellowing with the oncoming evening almost without notice, the group’s time spent focused on all the remaining preparations. Jaime tried pressing a sandwich in her hands at one point, Brienne staring blankly at it, recalling granola bars and muffins and an odd assortment of fruit. She put it aside when a large truck distracted her by delivering tables and chairs, and another - to her combined interest and mild alarm - a pair of kegs.

Brienne was still resolutely _not thinking about it _when Tyrion ushered her, Jaime and Bronn inside the kitchen just after Lancel arrived and started unloading his equipment, something definitely more involved looking than a couple of speakers and a USB port; Peck was already climbing up a ladder, a small mountain of cables hooked over his shoulder, to hang lights that the Lannister cousin had brought along. Brienne found the presence of mind to be impressed, even while Tyrion and Jaime traded long-suffering looks. 

“All right, gather ‘round,” Tyrion brandished a bottle of IronBorn and set out four shot glasses, “a little lubrication is required before our festivities can begin. A party isn’t a party if the hostess is dead sober and we’d be remiss to let her drink alone.”

“No, we’d never be so thoughtless,” Jaime laughed. 

Tyrion set the glasses along the edge of the kitchen table, filling each neatly before pushing three forward and keeping one for himself. Brienne, Jaime and Bronn all lifted their glasses to clink against Tyrion’s. “To Brienne and her first ever party, may it be memorable enough to bear repeating and wild enough that some memory lapses are inevitable.”

“I’m suddenly concerned,” Brienne said dryly.

“Drink and it’ll pass,” Tyrion said succinctly and tossed back the shot, Bronn following quickly. Even so, Brienne hesitated and looked over at Jaime, who paused when she caught his eyes and dropped his hand back down without drinking. Tyrion looked between them just as there was a squeal of feedback from the patio and said, “We’ll just go see to that set list, shall we? Our damned cousin doesn’t have the best track record in life choices.”

When Tyrion and Bronn were out the door, Jaime asked, “You ready?”

Brienne let out a gusty breath. “I’m nervous. It seems ridiculous, but all this running around kept my mind from it, but now it’s here.”

“It’s going to be great, you’ll see.” There was an earnestness in Jaime’s voice, one she allowed herself to recognize now. It’d been there when he lit up upon seeing her finally visit the lab and, truthfully, the night of the Sevenmas party. And so, so many other times. 

_Do you like me?_ She wanted to ask, more than anything. It was rending an immeasurable ache in her chest. _I like you. Very much._

Out loud she replied, “I guess we’ll see soon enough,” finally raised the glass to her lips and drank it down in hopes of tempering her thoughts. 

When she watched Jaime mimic her actions, admired the way his throat moved with it, the gracefulness of his hands setting the glass down, she knew she was screwed. 

She liked him _so much_. 

“Jaime, do - ” Brienne stopped herself short, her nerves getting the better of her. What she wouldn’t give for a memory lapse now, to forget what he had said on the dock, what she had discovered about them both. It would make the night so much easier. But it couldn’t be undone. 

So instead, with a bravery she never could have claimed in the past, Brienne leaned in and brushed her lips over his cheek. If she caught the corner of his mouth, it was inadvertent. 

Jaime froze in place, eyes fully open as she moved back. 

“Thank you,” Brienne said simply. She started stepping back. “For all of it. No matter how it goes, it means a lot that you did this for me.”

“Brienne.” 

He caught her arm as she tried to turn away, the feel of his palm scorching on her skin. It slid up as she stumbled closer, grazing her arm, her shoulder, casting a blazing path up to the back of her head where it finally settled - and Jaime pulled her down into another kiss. 

Jaime’s aim was truer than hers, his face tipping up slightly as he gently brought Brienne in, his lips soft on hers for several long seconds, opening ever so lightly when she gasped in surprise, making her gasp again when his tongue flicked inside. 

They separated and Brienne found her hands flat against his chest, caught between pushing him off and pulling him back in. Jaime’s roamed her face and she struggled not to look away. 

In the end, she could only find a few words to say. 

“You like me,” Brienne said in amazement, with patent hope. 

Jaime’s expression wavered slightly, like he wanted to glare or roll his eyes, yet still kiss her again, all at once. Brienne knew his face enough to see it clearly. He opened his mouth to speak, sighed first and then said, “I do, Brienne. Yes.”

“You never said,” Brienne replied softly. 

He let out a breath of air, almost like a laugh. “You never listened.”

The doorbell, the blasted thing, rang. 

“I should go,” Brienne told him, not moving. 

“Yeah,” Jaime agreed, though he stayed where he was. 

Brienne began and aborted a move to touch his face, not trusting herself to stop from bringing him in again. So she just asked, “We’ll talk about this? After?”

When he only nodded, she broke away and tried to convince herself that she wasn’t making an escape.

###### 

“Holy shit,” Margaery breathed out.

“I know,” Brienne agreed, taking a deep sip of wine.

“No, seriously, what the fuck,” Margaery spun in place, “I saw the RSVPs, but this is…”

“I know,” Brienne repeated with a surprised, heavy exhalation. 

More than an hour after guests started arriving, Brienne’s backyard had been transformed. The formerly empty spaces were filled with people as they mingled, conversations flowing loose and comfortable. Everyone either had a plate or drink in their hands, or both, laughter breaking through the music in frequent intervals. The paper lanterns swung joyfully in the warm evening breeze, the dock lights glowed invitingly in the distance and cheer abounded everywhere she looked. 

The nerves that had run her ragged all afternoon had become slightly more manageable in the time since, though Brienne probably had to give credit to the shot of vodka, followed by the glass of wine that Pia had placed in her hand. She’d been standing anxiously by the front door when the younger girl found her, torn between joining the group outside - going to Jaime - or waiting for the bell to ring again - avoiding Jaime. Pia had solved the problem only halfway, with the wine and then a sign on the door that encouraged everyone to just go around the back. 

Margaery had found her as she watched Jaime make his way through the crowd, easy as anything, exchanging friendly greetings with Mance and his underlings from Radiology then Shae’s team from Obstetrics, giving Hot Pie a high five as he passed. No matter what Brienne did, the number of guests greeted or brief tours given, she found herself constantly looking for Jaime among the throng. Every time she found him in his beautiful, confident, golden splendor, ever smiling and welcoming to anyone who crossed his path.

And every time, Brienne tore her eyes away before he could catch her looking, if only to keep herself from gravitating to his side.

“I brought wine?” Margaery held out a single bottle, looking over at the table where Peck had been assigned bartending detail. “Though it looks like you’re pretty well stocked up. It’ll take an age to drink all that.”

“You should get a cocktail, they’re amazing,” Sansa said as she joined them, indicating the fruity looking concoction in her hand. “I don’t know where you found Peck, but I need his contact information for when we do mom and dad’s anniversary party, I’ve never had anything so delicious.”

“Ask Jaime,” Brienne replied, “he’s the one who did… everything. This is all him.”

Margaery and Sansa exchanged a loaded look before Sansa delicately said, “So when you say Jaime did _everything_-”

“I kissed him.” It burst forth without permission, horrifying and therapeutic in equal measure. 

Sansa and Margaery’s mouths dropped open. Brienne swilled down the rest of her wine and reached for the bottle in Margaery’s hand. 

“Need a corkscrew,” Brienne muttered to herself, went to the bar and retrieved it, feeling instinctively that her friends were following behind. They watched as she set down the wine glass on the patio rail, untwisted the top of the bottle, jammed in the corkscrew, popped out the cork and refilled her glass in quick, jerky motions. 

She drank half of the glass down before saying, “That’s really good. Thanks, Marg.”

“Thanks… Marg…” Margaery repeated, agog. Sansa shook her head in astonishment. “That’s it, that’s all you have to say after just casually telling us, oh, by the way, you kissed Jaime _fucking_ Lannister.”

Brienne made hushing motions with the hand still holding the bottle, its innards splashing over her fist as she took a frantic look at the crowd. Jaime was thankfully far away, handing a couple of sodas to Sam and Gilly, who had arrived early on saying they were thrilled to have their first break in months, then immediately bombarded Brienne with baby pictures. Margaery rolled her eyes and pulled her aside, found the area still too crowded and then pulled her back into the house, passing by Bronn, who was inexplicably sitting at the kitchen table. He saw the looks on their faces and sidled out the door. 

“Talk,” Margaery commanded as soon as they were alone, forcing Brienne to sit in the chair Bronn had vacated. 

Sansa patted Margaery on the shoulder, her voice gentler as she said, “You don’t seem very happy about it?”

“No, I am. I _am_,” Brienne said with a groan that likely told them otherwise. “I’m just _freaking out_.”

“Did he kiss you back?” Sansa asked.

Brienne let out a near hysterical laugh, it stuttered out of her throat as she nodded. 

“So that’s good,” Sansa nodded along with her, looking something like a demented jack-in-the-box, which didn’t give Brienne much hope that she looked sane herself, “I’ve always thought Jaime had a bit of a thing for you - ”

“That’s an understatement,” Margaery broke in. “The man’s wanted to fuck her seven ways from Maiden's day for ages now.”

“Margaery!” Sansa chastised and Brienne could only moan in despair. 

“I’m sorry, is this not the right time to talk about how Jaime’s been mooning over Brienne since she started at the hospital? I learned more about her from him way before you ever introduced us.” Margaery lifted her hands and visibly eased back. “Sorry, Brienne, it’s just… you’re acting like this is horrible and it’s not. He’s interested. You’re interested. So why are you not appreciating the best wine I could steal from my grandmother’s cabinet? You’re not supposed to guzzle that down like a two dragon flagon.”

“It’s just so much,” Brienne finally told her, drained from her tumultuous emotions. “I’d just put it all together, admitted to myself that I felt something for him and it was just a thank you kiss and then Jaime, he made it so much more. It’s so much more.”

“Did he ask you for… anything? Like, did he say that he expected something from you?” Sansa asked carefully.

“No.” Brienne softened. “Nothing like that, it’s only that… this has never happened to me. I’ve never felt like this before. I was with Hyle for years and that was nothing on what I feel now, for Jaime.”

“Well, that fucktard didn’t deserve you to begin with,” Margaery said acidly and frowned when Sansa hissed at her. “Come on, I met that guy once and that was more than enough. I nearly had a parade when Brienne dumped him. Maybe I should have, then Jaime would have made a move even sooner.”

Brienne stared at her. “I can’t believe you knew all this time.”

Margaery dropped into the chair at her side. “He’s not exactly subtle, Brienne. But you - you’re a harder read. At least before these last couple weeks.”

“She did always change the subject anytime Jaime came up,” Sansa told her and then turned to give Brienne an apologetic smile. 

“Heh, yeah,” Margaery replied with a raised brow. “I almost set you up, you know. Right after you gave Hyle the boot.”

“Oh,” Brienne considered it and shook her head. “Why didn’t you?”

“Hard to read,” Margaery repeated. “Besides, you bought the house right away and basically married yourself to its rehab, total tunnel vision. I figured you needed your time. Though I was getting tempted again lately, especially after I saw that Jaime was involved in the party. It seemed the timing might be right.”

“I’m not sure it’ll ever be completely right. I think it’s going to be terrifying no matter when it happens,” Brienne confessed. 

“But you admit it’s a when, not an if,” Sansa said, perhaps a little proudly. 

Brienne toyed with the wine glass and, in deference to Olenna Tyrell, took a slow sip and said, “Yeah, it is.”

“That’s good,” Sansa said kindly. “I’d like to see you happy. I think I can see you being happy with him.”

“Very happy,” Margaery purred and then cackled when Brienne gave her an offended glare. “Look, for tonight just… have fun, okay? You’ve got the promising start of a kick ass party, a gorgeous guy is basically waiting in the wings until you’re ready for him and you’ve got your best friends here for you. What’s not to enjoy?”

“Can’t really argue that,” Brienne admitted. 

“Exactly.” Margaery stood up and took the bottle from Brienne’s grip, plugged the cork back in and said, “We’ll save the rest of this for later. For now, I think we all need some shots.”

###### 

They dragged her to the bar, where Margaery gave high-spirited instructions on the appropriate combination of lime, salt and Sunspear tequila. 

Brienne disliked the burn and begged off after one, but took the brightly colored cup, garnished with fruit, that Peck offered each of them. Drinks in hand, they made their way to the lakeside, where several people had already stripped to their bathing suits, happy yells coming from the dock as they dove in the water. Amongst them were Robb, Theon and Jon, their whooping and hollering louder than the rest combined. 

Margaery made them stop for a selfie, cups held aloft, Brienne only partly hiding behind Sansa’s hair. After, she fiddled with her phone and asked, “Do you mind if I invite a few more people? My brother was moping that he didn’t have plans tonight.”

She gave an affirmative hum in response, her eyes caught on a frisbee flying just past her, the lights inside glowing brightly in the early evening haze. It was caught by Missandei, who waved and then tossed it back to the man who’d originally thrown it. Coming closer, Missandei gave her a big hug and said, “I wondered when I’d get to say hello!”

Brienne faltered, considered wiggling out of Missandei’s grip and then just gave in, accepting the embrace without protest. “It’s nice to see you. Thanks for coming.”

“We got here a while ago, but I think you were inside? This is my boyfriend, Grey,” Missandei gestured as he approached. “Grey, this is Brienne, she’s one of the doctors I’m always chasing around to sign paperwork, though really, she gives me the easiest time of it out of everyone. It’s her party.”

Grey greeted her pleasantly and then immediately threw her for a loop by saying, “Thanks for inviting us, you and your boyfriend have a great house.”

“Oh, I don’t know if he’s her - ” Missandei paused, taking in how Brienne’s mouth opened and closed without a sound coming out “ - or is he? I mean, not to be a pain about it, but that’s something I have to keep track of for human resources.”

“They’re friends,” Sansa interjected smoothly when Brienne still couldn’t speak.

“For now,” Margaery snickered.

“Sorry,” Missandei replied, raising her palms up in apology, “it’s not something to harp over at a party. But, uh, let us know if it changes?”

“O...kay,” Brienne said slowly. 

“She’ll let you know really soon, trust me,” Margaery said with a wink and then pulled Brienne away. 

They’d left Missandei far behind when Brienne found her voice and exclaimed, “Margaery!”

“What, am I wrong?”

“That’s not… you’re not…” Brienne huffed loudly and turned in the opposite direction, ignoring Margaery’s giggling non-apology and Sansa’s soft reprimand. 

Not one to typically storm off, Brienne soon found herself feeling vaguely lost and foolish and was about to turn back when she was approached by Walda Frey. The bubbly ICU nurse rattled off a greeting and effusive praise for Brienne’s home, not letting her get in a word edgewise, though Brienne was glad for it. Until.

“And you and Dr. Lannister! I told the girls, I see what’s going on, I bet they’re keeping it quiet, even if he is rather obvious about it,” Walda grinned from ear to ear, “but I always catch these things, it’s just one of those little gifts I have.”

“Walda, it’s not really - ”

“That’s all right, Dr. Tarth, we won’t tease you too much, though if throwing a party together isn’t an announcement, I don’t know what is. I find it all rather sweet and romantic.”

Brienne dropped her shoulders in defeat. “I guess?”

“Oh, you’re precious,” Walda beamed, “I think I see Selyse walking in, I can’t wait to see her eat her words, she said I was just making things up!” 

Walda bundled off with a near palpable excitement and Brienne gulped down the rest of her drink.

She was stopped periodically by people going to and from the lake, thankfully spared anyone else speculating over her and Jaime’s non-relationship. _Almost relationship?_ “I have no freaking clue,” she mumbled to herself and felt a wave of relief when she found Dr. Greyjoy from the emergency department - Asha, not Theon of clarinet extracting infamy - as well as nurses Tyene, Nymeria and Obara. If there was a less sentimental group of women in their hospital, Brienne didn’t know who it could possibly be.

It was a welcome reprieve and Brienne found herself relaxing the longer she stood talking to them. They were playing with a massive Jenga set and the look of intense concentration on Asha’s face when it was her turn made Brienne giggle. Nymeria booed when the block Asha targeted slid out easily and Brienne laughed outright. 

“This is so fun, thank you so much for inviting us,” Obara told Brienne as Asha bragged over having _good hands_ \- classic Greyjoy. They’d persuaded her to join in and she set aside the blocks she’d clumsily removed, declining to go further when she made the tower teeter dangerously. “Normally all we do is sit around Asha’s place, drinking and complaining about our repeat offenders in the ER. It’s nice to do something different. And your place is gorgeous.”

Brienne thanked her, feeling a strange blend of bashfulness and pride at hearing it. Normally such open praise would have had her picking it apart to search for the underlying cutting remark, but now she could only happily grin. They were so nice. Had they always been _this nice_? 

“I mean, nobody’s ever accused me of being nice before,” Obara chuckled, “but it’s hard to be mean to you, Dr. Tarth, out of all the MDs. And I don’t see why anyone would insult your house in the first place.”

Brienne blinked in confusion.

“I only got inside to use the bathroom before a swarthy looking guy sent me back out,” Tyene said, obviously intrigued. “Did you hire a bouncer?”

“Not that I know of,” Brienne replied, though she suspected maybe Bronn had been coerced into more duties that she hadn’t been told about, “I hope he didn’t bother you. He seems like he’s an alright guy, though, if not a little… adventurous?”

“I wasn’t bothered in the least, though I certainly wouldn’t argue if you passed on this adventurous man’s number,” Tyene smirked, “that’ll heal any ills.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Brienne said with another laugh, reaching out to tap her cup against Tyene’s when the other woman raised hers in solidarity. Brienne gave her empty cup a curious glance and turned where she was, making her way back to the bar. She had to shoulder past several others, most turning to greet her with exclamations over the food, the drink, the music, her home. 

Feeling as if she were floating from the exhilaration, Brienne took another cup from Peck and turned to watch the mass of people, honing in almost instantaneously on where Jaime stood in the yard talking with his brother, Tyrion carefully arranging plastic cups on the table next to him. Almost as if he felt her gaze, Jaime turned in her direction and her heart - 

\- _her heart_ -

\- it thumped a multitude of mad beats as their eyes met. A slow, hopeful smile crept across Jaime’s face upon seeing her, with feeling in his eyes so unmistakable and true and mind-bendingly open, even from a distance, even with the shadows deepening around them. It made her lips part in astonishment, the air go static in her lungs. He looked at her like - 

It felt like - 

Brienne’s breath hitched with immediate, staggering clarity. 

Her feet began moving without instruction - and ran her straight into the man next to her. Discovering who she nearly bowled over, Brienne almost shouted, “Pod! I didn’t know you were going to be here!”

Podrick Payne froze, clenching the beer bottle in his hands. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, Dr. Tarth. Yes, I got the invite.” His eyes went perceptibly wider. “Should I not have?”

“Of course not, I’m just surprised to see you outside the hospital. I’m surprised to see this many people outside the hospital, there’s so many of them, did you know there’d be this many?” Brienne stopped to ponder her words and the way they’d sped from her brain and out her mouth; she gave the drink in her hand an accusatory glance. It had nothing to say for itself. 

“I think I need a water,” Brienne said absently. She was also pretty sure she’d meant to be going somewhere, but now that she thought about it, her actual thoughts were a little… cloudy. “Peck, do you have water?”

“Have you eaten anything today, Brienne?” Peck asked from the other side of the makeshift bar, handing over a bottle with a dawning expression on his face.

“You know, I don’t think I have,” Brienne said wonderingly.

Pod and Peck traded a look, with Pod quickly reassuring him, “I’ve got her, don’t worry about it.”

“This is just ridiculous, Pod. I’ve only had two drinks,” Brienne complained as Pod led her to the tables laden with food, “maybe three. But they were delicious, Sansa was right. Was it four?”

“You’ll feel better soon, I’m sure of it,” Pod replied, piling a plate with a tasty looking burger and Pia’s little veggies and dip. He handed it to her and maneuvered her to sit on the ground behind the table and against the patio border, crouching down beside her. He waved away her encouragement to rejoin the party, saying, “I don’t mind hanging out a bit, it’s pretty full out there.”

“So many people,” Brienne agreed and started eating, suddenly ravenous, the large bites keeping her from yelling out a thanks loud enough for Bronn to hear. Complain all he might, but the man was gifted at the grill. 

“All the interns heard about tonight, though we had to draw straws on who got to come, so you’ve only got about half our group here. I was one of the lucky ones. Arya, Lommy and Ygritte are somewhere around, too.”

Forcing a swallow, Brienne asked, “So Jaime meant it, huh?”

“Dr. Lannister, you mean?”

“He said people look up to me and not just because I’m tall. Though I am quite tall.”

Pod chuckled. “He wasn’t lying, ma’am. There may have been times where we’ve argued over who gets to follow you for the day.”

“You can call me Brienne here, Pod. Gods, I think I could be in love with him. Jaime. It hit me like a ton of bricks just now. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Uh,” Pod looked around wildly before slumping down to sit next to her, “I won’t think it’s crazy if you don’t.”

“I think he loves me. He said he liked me. No, I said he liked me and he said yes, but I think he was holding back, I think he does that a lot,” Brienne pushed a carrot around her plate and then crunched it between her teeth, her heart skipping as she remembered the look on Jaime’s face, “which is absurd, so crazy, the craziest, but then he looks at me like that and it just makes me feel like something’s gnawing away at my insides, but in a good way, and his _mouth_ \- ”

“Dr. Tarth,” Pod broke in, almost yelped. “Maybe you’ll want to tell me about this after you’ve eaten more and drank your water. Or not at all. Please don’t be mad at me when you remember this.”

“I couldn’t be mad at you, Pod, you’re my favorite, you catch on so quickly but you don’t let yourself get lazy, you still work so hard, it’s like I’m looking at myself,” Brienne said earnestly. “I probably shouldn’t have said that, but now I have, so you can call me Brienne. At least outside the hospital. We need to be professional there. I try so hard to be professional, even when Jaime drives me absolutely mad. Oh, but that’s what I was going to do, I was going to tell him -”

“Eat this first,” Pod said hastily, throwing another burger on her plate, bringing to her attention that the first one was gone. “Trust me, nobody wants love confessions from someone who would fail a breathalyzer test.”

“So sensible, look at you,” Brienne replied, patting Pod on the head and leaving a trace of ranch dip behind in his hair. “But I think he would. And maybe you’re a little like Jaime, too, he’s always giving me food, have you noticed that? Took me forever to see. Or let myself see. I didn’t let myself see so much for so long. I don’t know why I was so scared.”

“Yes, we’ve noticed,” Pod visibly waffled before professing, “Ygritte may have been keeping track. She loves cranberry muffins and you always passed them onto her before Dr. Lannister noticed you didn’t like them.”

“That’s because blueberry is better,” Brienne insisted.

“I agree with you completely, it was a nice day when you shared one with me. And so are burgers, you should finish that one.”

Brienne shrugged and did so. 

Pod stayed with her for quite a while, the music muted from their vantage point, the people standing around ever changing. He kept making her eat and drink, even when she started to feel uncomfortably full, leaning back against the wall and sighing. If anyone came close, he somehow managed to ease them away before Brienne could say anything, gently guiding her back down whenever she started to stand, shushing her quietly and saying, “Not yet, give it a little more time.”

_But it’s already been so much time_, Brienne thought to herself, several minutes after she’d finished off the plate he’d insisted on refilling, _I’ve wasted so much time, even tonight. _

Brienne sat up straight. “I didn’t say that out loud.”

Pod cocked his head, nonplussed. 

“I’m feeling better, Podrick, thank you,” Brienne said slowly. And she did, with the fuzzy, floaty feeling that’d overtaken her slowly ebbing away. Nevertheless, Pod encouraged her to finish off another bottle of water before letting her stand back up. She looked down at where he sat, feeling a bit of a fond, almost sisterly warmth towards him. “I do really like you, Pod.”

“Ah, well, thank you, Dr. Tarth. Brienne,” he amended. 

Brienne started to walk away but stopped after a few steps to tip back in his direction and said, “But, um, this never happened, right?”

Pod gave her a crooked grin. “I can’t imagine what you could possibly mean.”

“Good lad,” Brienne replied, and made her way back into the crowd.

###### 

It was only after a few minutes of wandering, saying hello to a group from the operating room, and declining their offer of a drink from the keg they were enthusiastically pumping, that Jaime found her. 

She was thrown by the anxious, nearly frantic, look on his face, the way his hands gripped her forearms. He pulled her to the semi-quiet area behind Lancel’s set up, where he said, “I’ve been looking all over, are you all right?”

Her mouth went dry at seeing him again, and she desperately hoped that her mental filter kept her from spilling out the words that poor Podrick had fielded, all the while still marveling at the concern Jaime’s eyes. Finally, she scraped her wits together to say, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just...” she sighed, “I went a little overboard with the drinks, gods, that’s so embarrassing.”

“Peck told me you didn’t look well and that _some guy_ said he had you, and I’d just seen you but then you completely disappeared.” The almost helpless tone of his voice had Brienne bringing a hand to his jaw without a second thought, her heart practically melting when his let out a relieved breath at her touch. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay. Podrick had me sit and eat something until it passed. I’m already a lot better.”

“Fuck, I’m such an ass,” Jaime said tightly, “I told myself not to hang all over you tonight, but look what happened. Then you went and vanished for nearly an hour and I could only think the worst - “

It was out of her mouth before she could deny herself. Or him. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I don’t have to what, worry? I’m going to worry, I pushed you into this damn thing and then didn’t even watch out for you -”

“No, not that.” Brienne pulled her hand from his face only to twine it with his, remembering how he’d looked at her from afar, the way he’d kissed her just a few hours before. She saw the way he looked at her now. It suddenly seemed the maddest thing was staying apart when it was so evident where they both wanted to be. 

“You don’t have to keep your distance,” she told him quietly, emboldened by the way his hand tightened against hers. “That’s not what I want. And it’s not your fault I had too much, I’m grown, I should have known myself better. Or least admitted to myself that I was nervous enough to get carried away.”

Jaime glanced down to their joined hands before looking back at her, his face seeming to go through a million expressions, but for once nothing came out of his mouth. 

So Brienne said it for both of them.

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, at first gentle and exploring, mapping out the once unfathomable truth of Jaime Lannister, something she’d been too overwhelmed to do the first time.

It was remarkably easy, in the end, to know him. Easy to recognize Jaime’s uncertainty as he kissed her back. It was in the way he briefly changed angles, tilting one way then the other, taking soft breaths in between. Even though she kissed him first, it was if Jaime feared that she’d pull away and it was only after Brienne raised her free hand to card her fingers through his hair that she felt the needful groan that started in his throat against her lips. 

Brienne sighed with the heady relief of giving in as Jaime’s free arm wrapped around her waist and tugged at her, deepening their kiss all the while. It was all encompassing and still not enough, because she could feel the coiling of want in her belly the longer it lasted, a heat rising that made her breath come faster as she realized she was as greedy as he was, wanting everything at once. 

They fumbled slightly when Jaime tore his hand from hers, bringing it up to hold the back of her neck for purchase so he could plunder her mouth completely, taking all he could. Brienne’s hand dug into his shoulder, knowing she was failing in bringing him in as much as she wanted, that it would take more than a shadowy corner, mere steps away from the bustling crowd, to find the satisfaction that her body was starting to beg for. 

It was the frustration that broke them apart, both of them panting, clinging on to one another, all at once satisfied and aching for more. 

Brienne tried to catch her breath, opening her eyes to find Jaime staring at her, pupils blown and lips parted. It hit her like a thunderbolt: he still looked scared. 

“Don’t hide,” he said softly, urgently, “don’t run, okay?”

She shook her head. “I won’t.”

“I - ” he broke off and set his forehead on hers. He was shaking, she realized. She was, too. “Brienne, you - ”

He lost his words again, so she brought her hands to his jaw and said, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

###### 

Tyrion’s work on the cups had been completed in the time she was gone, Tyrion standing at one end of the table, bellowing in disappointment as a ping pong ball flew through the air in front of him, landing neatly with a soft splash. “How are you doing this?”

The group of ladies from the recovery room shrieked in approval as their boss, Ros, pretended to brush off her shoulders. “Years of flicking empty syringes into the trash, you sweet summer child. My aim is impeccable.”

“I demand a rematch!” 

“Drink up and I’ll consider it,” Ros answered with a taunting laugh.

Tyrion blustered and drank from the cup with a wild gleam in his eye. Wiping off his mouth, he caught sight of their approach, his distraction giving Ros the opportunity to find another challenger. “Aw, hells. So you found her then? I told you she’d be fine. Look at her, safe as houses.”

Brienne and Jaime exchanged a glance before he answered, “Yeah, all that worry for nothing, I guess.”

“And you found something else, did you?” Tyrion leaned to one side and gave their interlocked hands an undeserving leer. “Wondered when you’d find the balls to make a move.”

“Classy,” Jaime said, rolling his eyes. 

“Pardon me, but I didn’t think you kept me around for my _classiness_,” Tyrion drawled, “you asked me here to help you throw a successful party and by all accounts we’ve done just that. Look at them!”

He sprawled his arm to one side, indicating the mass of people that had only gotten thicker in the time since Brienne had last observed them. There was hardly an empty space in the yard, chairs scattered all over, some in haphazard circles as guests sat and chatted, others standing in clusters and laughing over half-full cups. Several pairs had started to dance in an area cleared on the patio, their figures illuminated by colored lights Peck had directed toward the center. As disdainful as the brothers had been, Brienne had to say that Lancel was far better than they’d given any reason to expect.

“Now what you can do for me,” Tyrion continued, “if you have any love for your dear, dear brother, who has listened to you whine for more time than is at all feasible, oh, I have suffered, Brienne, I couldn’t begin to tell you - ”

Jaime stopped him. “Name it.”

“It won’t be a party, not really,” Tyrion teased with a knowing grin, “until someone hooks up in the bathroom.”

“Oh, dear gods,” Jaime groaned. Brienne covered her face with her free hand. 

“Someone has to christen this place, might as well be you!”

“Let’s go.” Jaime pulled on her arm, leading her away.

“It doesn’t have to be full on, just a little heavy petting!” Tyrion shouted after them, his voice dissolving into laughter and then filtering away completely as they walked away.

“I think we’ll give him a wide berth for the remainder of the evening,” Jaime said and Brienne nodded in agreement.

It was different, roaming the party while hand in hand with Jaime Lannister, after their wordless agreement that where she went, so did he. 

She wondered idly to herself if this is what everyone had discovered so long before, during the typical high school period where there were shy smiles and stammered conversations, people figuring out what they wanted and with whom. Brienne had missed out on that, she’d always known it, but it was as if Jaime was giving her a second chance to experience it for herself, the sweaty-handed, stomach lurching thrill of it all. The floaty feeling was back and more intense than ever, but she knew it wasn’t the drink, it was him. 

It was Jaime’s arm slung across her lower back as they stopped to speak with Barristan Selmy, the chief of surgery, then Dacey Mormont and Ellaria Sand from the telemetry unit, followed by the hospital chaplain, Thoros. If any of them were surprised by Jaime and Brienne’s closeness, none of them commented on it aside from an appraising glance at Jaime’s hand at her hip, something that made Brienne blush to feel, but never enough to pry away. Instead she revelled in it, in his open affection and in the freedom it gave her to brush her hand over the back of his neck, to lean against him when he smiled brilliantly in response. 

It was Jaime and the way he kept her near while leading her through the press of the partygoers, greeting people briefly and catching conversations in passing.

“ - told him that I don’t give a shit what he says, I am not giving it back - “

“ - Roslin’s mad with envy, she saw the snap of Dr. Stark running around without a shirt on, she’s demanding I go relieve her - “

“ - gods, this is good, don’t know how I’m going to drive myself home - “

“ - didn’t even know this neighborhood was here, Brienne really found a gem - “

“ - a great time, get over here - “

“ - Martell challenged me to a keg stand and I’m damned tempted to do it - 

“ - knew that Sandor was so ripped? Those security uniforms don’t do him justice - “

“ - Brienne Tarth? By the gods, it is you!”

The words and voice gave her pause, but it was the sight of the dark-haired man that made Brienne startle in shock. “Renly?”

“I told Loras I was sure it was you!” Renly gave her a wide, bright smile, one she hadn’t seen in years but would still have recognized anywhere. Renly Baratheon, here, at her home. The wonders of the evening simply wouldn’t cease.

“Hi,” Brienne said faintly as Renly swept her into a hug. At her side, Jaime made a small disgruntled noise as he was displaced. “How… what…”

“Margaery sent us a few pics of a fun looking party, we couldn’t resist making our way over,” Renly answered. 

“You’re Margaery’s brother?”

“No, that would be me.” It came from the man next to him, someone with Margaery’s soft brown curls and sharp cheekbones. He held out a hand for Brienne to shake once Renly released her. “Loras Tyrell. I take it you know Renly then?”

“Yes, from undergrad at Stormlands. It’s been, what, ten years?” Brienne gaped at him, momentarily transported to another time she’d thought she’d put far out of her mind. If Jaime was the manifestation of a vivid teenage dream, Renly stood before her the real-life evidence of how such dreams had always come to nothing. 

Gods, she’d had such a horrible crush on him, the kind boy in her freshman courses who made everyone laugh with his witty comments and cheeky attitude. In all four years at Stormlands, they’d shared no more than a handful of conversations, nothing that she thought he would remember her by, but here Renly was, exclaiming, “Ten years, that makes me feel ancient! But I would recognize you anywhere, Brienne, though as soon as Margaery said she had a doctor friend by the name of Tarth, I wondered if it was you. How have you been?”

“Um, great,” Brienne answered politely. She looked over at Jaime, who was watching them with interest. He smirked a little when he saw how disconcerted she was and Brienne was sorely tempted to step on his foot in a flash of familiar annoyance. He saw that, too, and smiled even wider. “Loras, Renly, this is Jaime - ”

“Lannister, of course.” Renly let out a little chuckle that Loras echoed. “We’ve met many times, to our mutual displeasure, I’m sure.”

“His brother used to be married to my sister,” Jaime explained at Brienne’s confused glance, pulling closer to loop his arm around her waist. “Though it seems they are both better off for going their separate ways. Or at least there’s less property damage.”

“To say the least.” A sly look came to Renly’s face as he took them in, Brienne still shaking off her surprise at seeing him again and Jaime raising his chin as if daring him to say anything about how they stood together. But all he said was, “You’re looking well. Both of you.”

“Thank you, so do you,” Brienne replied. 

Renly leaned toward Loras to say, “Brienne’s got to be one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, I was in complete awe of her back at school. She was one of those that always had an answer when called upon, no matter how obscure the question. Made me feel like a damned dullard.”

Brienne felt her face immediately flame at his statement. “That’s not true - ”

“It’s completely true,” Renly insisted. “I wanted desperately to know how you did it, but you were always so quiet otherwise. It was intimidating as hell trying to speak with you, no matter how I tried.”  


Jaime laughed, delighted. “So she’s always been like that, then?”

“You too, Lannister?”

“Since the first day I met her, I’ve been trying to figure out how her brain works, she’s quite tricky,” Jaime agreed. 

“You managed to figure some of it out, it seems.”

Brienne looked back when she felt Jaime turn towards her to say, “Getting there, at least.”

They parted from Renly and Loras after a few minutes, Brienne stunned when Renly suggested trading phone numbers. She watched as they walked away, hand in hand, still puzzling over the things he’d said. 

“You’re thinking awfully hard,” Jaime said, his warm breath at her ear breaking through her reverie.

“It’s just so strange,” Brienne said slowly. “I didn’t even think he knew my name.”

Jaime shifted until they were face to face, ignoring the people shuffling past them, the shouted conversations all around. “But you wanted him to.”

It should have been embarrassing to admit, but Jaime’s knowing look made it easy to nod in agreement. “It was stupid, I knew he wasn’t… well, obviously, you know, it’s not as if I had a chance. He just made it look so easy, he had so many friends and I was horribly shy.”

“So you’ve said.” Jaime pulled her in, both his hands at her waist now, causing a frisson to spread from where his thumbs grazed under the edge of her shirt. It went without saying that her college crush on Renly paled in comparison to what Jaime brought out of her now. “Perhaps I should be glad for it or someone would have gotten to you long before I did.”

“You’re forgetting Hyle,” Brienne pointed out.

“As well we both should,” Jaime said breezily, making her grin. “No, I saw that guy once and that was enough. I knew that all I had to do was bide my time, even if I hated it.”

He said it so simply, so at odds with the apprehension he’d let her see when they’d kissed again. Brienne supposed that was just Jaime’s way, grabbing onto what he wanted with both hands, assured of her feelings now, even if they hadn’t put it into clear words. They both felt it. They both knew it. That was enough. 

She swayed towards him, giddy when his hands tightened and it sent an almost electric thrill everywhere their skin met. “Is that so?”

“Gods, yes, you looked so bored with him, but I could tell it had to play itself out. There were so many times I wanted to say something but knew I couldn’t. You’re not the kind of woman that gets stolen, that isn’t your way. Or mine.” He swept his thumbs again and she shivered in response. “But let me tell you, if I’d known that you dumped him when you did, I would have been on your doorstep that very day.”

She swallowed hard and looked down to play with a button on his shirt. “The same day?” 

Jaime nodded decisively and then sniggered. “And it would have failed spectacularly, now that I know what you’d been thinking all this time.”

“I was pretty unfair to you, wasn’t I?” Brienne murmured, knowing he was close enough to hear her despite the hubbub around them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gendry Waters, one of Robb’s fellows, trying his best to shimmy up a tree. Arya Stark was already sitting on one of the branches and heckling him. 

“No more than I probably deserved,” Jaime said. His voice dropped slightly, low and riveting. “But I’ve always known you were worth the wait.”

Brienne stepped even closer, her hands spreading over the front of Jaime’s shirt, quietly amazed that she could feel his heart pounding under her fingers. It didn’t feel as crazy as she’d told Podrick, when she’d seen it on Jaime’s face, so bold and unquestionable. It was easier to believe now, even if Jaime hadn’t said it in so many words. She could see it and feel something inside her that was reaching back, yearning to say something of how much this man had ingrained himself into her life, in her heart, in such a short amount of time, when she’d tried so hard to keep him on the periphery.

Jaime was as close as he’d been when they’d kissed, but the air somehow felt more charged now, finally on the same page in their desire for more. There was a curling, thrumming promise sweeping through her, a knowledge of what could come next, soon. Brienne bit her lip and looked back at him, knowing intrinsically that their thoughts were similar and was about to say something when yet another voice called out her name. 

Turning together, they saw Davos Seaworth approaching with a rather severe looking man. “There you are, I didn’t want to head out without at least saying hello,” Davos said kindly. 

“You’re already going?” Brienne eased only slightly from Jaime and looked at her watch, blinking in surprise when she saw the lateness of the hour. Despite it, the crowd around them didn’t look as if they were faltering at all. Jaime remained a solid line of heat at her side. 

“Afraid I have early rounds and, well, it’s getting a little rowdy, and we’re not as young as we once were,” Davos said ruefully. He nodded to one side and Brienne’s eyebrows drew together at the sight of Beric Dondarrion methodically duct taping two beer bottles onto Sandor Clegane’s hands. “Oh, sorry, you haven’t met my husband. Stannis, this Brienne. Of course, you know Jaime.”

They exchanged greetings, Stannis holding out a small bag to Brienne immediately after. “A gift, for your housewarming.”

Davos let out a fond little huff. “I told him it wasn’t that kind of housewarming - “

“It said so on the invitation, Davos, it’s customary - “

“It also said bash, dear, that seemed to be the operative word - “

“Thank you,” Brienne cut in, taking the bag from Stannis, who looked slightly mollified when she pushed aside the tissue paper and politely exclaimed over the candle within. An idea occurred to her and she said, hoping she wasn’t being as blatant as she suspected, “Would you like to see the house before you go? Jaime, let’s show them.”

She led them back to the house, Jaime’s hand in hers as he followed without comment. They entered and found Bronn sitting at the kitchen table again, thumbing at his phone and dully saying, “Bathroom’s to the left, then if you please, kindly get your ass back out the door.”

“Excuse me?” Stannis asked, affronted. 

“Bronn,” Brienne said hurriedly, “thank you, but I think it’d be fine if you joined everyone outside, I didn’t know Tyrion still had you here.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Bronn stood and brushed off his pants. “But it’s no fault of mine if they make a mess in here now.”

“Consider me warned.”

At Bronn’s exit, Brienne turned back to Davos and Stannis and invited them to follow along. The pair made all the expected appreciative noises as she showed them the kitchen and the living room, answering Stannis’ probing questions about the company she’d used to refurbish the floors or to apply the crown moulding. Davos especially liked her office and the large desk that had once been in her father’s study at home, incongruent as it was with the boxing bag in the opposite corner. 

The entire time, Brienne tried her best not to show how her stomach was a churning mess of anticipation and trepidation. She kept her gaze firmly from Jaime’s, who hadn’t said a word to her since she’d invited them in, but followed closely as they moved from room to room. They were never truly apart, his hands grazing over her back or down her arm as she passed, building up the clenching of her stomach, the rapid beat of her heart. 

It was only a moment after Davos and Stannis said their goodbyes, Brienne closing the front door behind them, before she felt Jaime grip her hips and turn her in place, his lips unerringly finding hers.

This kiss was a gasping, desperate thing, Jaime’s fingers digging into her back, Brienne moaning and throwing her arms around his neck in reply. If she could have burrowed into Jaime’s chest entirely, it still wouldn’t have been enough, so she made do with plastering her body against his, her back arching in response to the way Jaime’s mouth invaded hers. His answering groan seemed to vibrate within her and it was only when she felt almost dizzy with the sensation that she realized she needed a moment to breathe. 

“I wondered,” she wheezed slightly, “if I was being too obvious.”

“No more than I was,” Jaime said against her neck, where he ran his tongue over her throat, “though you did turn a very lovely shade of red.”

“Oh, shut up,” Brienne pulled his face back to hers and kissed him again, another little whine escaping her when Jaime’s hands grabbed her ass and rocked their hips together. “My room?”

“Yes, please,” he said breathlessly and they both giggled - _giggled!_ \- as they rushed up the stairs. And it was as before, from the moment her bedroom door closed behind them, Jaime crowded her once again, pressing her back against it. The clash of their bodies was inexorable now, making especially apparent how very interested Jaime was in the proceedings. Brienne gasped as she felt the hard length of him against her thigh, instinctively hitching her knee up over his hip so that it could relieve the overwhelming throbbing between her legs. Jaime let out a guttural noise from deep within his chest, his hand contracting on the back of her raised thigh as he rolled his hips. 

They rocked blindly against each other, Brienne’s head thrown as far back as it could go, Jaime’s teeth scraping the hollow of her throat. He used his free hand to push her shirt up, shoving it and her bra aside to lick at her breasts, to take in one nipple with a hard suck that made Brienne cry out, then the other. It was almost too much and Brienne drew his face up for another kiss, almost as a relief from the blazing sensations he drew out of her. 

Between kisses, he said things like _even better than I hoped_ and _gods, you feel amazing, Brienne, Brienne, Brienne_. When she said his name on a choked sigh, he shoved forward even harder, his meaning clear and Brienne let loose, repeating his name over and over, faster and faster with every pass of his hardness against her center. 

The fever of it left her mind in an endless, hazy fog, her breath coming out punches against Jaime’s lips as he brought her closer to the edge. He managed to spread her legs even further, to push impossibly closer. The one foot she had on ground scraped against the floor, the tips of her toes scrambling to find purchase, so Brienne slapped a hand up to grab the top edge of the doorframe, using it to bolster her efforts to bring him in. It was when Jaime finally released her mouth, grabbed her other thigh so that it was only him and the door that kept her upright, and thrust forcefully against her - it was that and the look on his face, the desperate hunger and the heat between them that made Brienne finally tip over, her body going stiff and then trembling madly, letting out a slew of uncontrollable _ah-ah-ahs_ that had Jaime grinning voraciously, triumphantly in response. 

The aftershocks were as intoxicating as her orgasm. Brienne pulled at Jaime to rub her body against any part of him that she could reach, mewling at the feel of her nipples grazing against his shirt, sighing when he brought his lips to her throat and moaned when she rocked them together again. 

“Hold up,” Jaime told her, his voice strained, “or I’m going to embarrass myself, very quickly.”

Brienne laughed faintly and dropped her shaky legs down when he released them, wobbling slightly against him. They were still both breathing deeply, chests brushing together, though their frenzy was momentarily quenched. 

“That was,” Brienne let her head fall back with a thud against the door, “incredible. How was that so good? I’ve never had anything feel so good even when my clothes were off.”

“I’ll take that more as a testament to my skills than anyone else’s failures,” Jaime replied and dipped his head down to kiss at her breasts, to mouth between them as he bought both hands to cup them both. Brienne murmured her agreement, but frowned when Jaime backed away as she tried to push her hips to his again. “Brienne, wait.”

She paused at the heavy tone of his voice, more serious now. “Jaime?”

“I want, more than anything, to be with you, inside you, gods know that it’ll be beyond anything I’ve thought it could be,” he replied. Despite his words, Jaime fixed her bra and shirt, then put space between them and she frowned even harder. “But if I do that, when I do that, I don’t want to hurry. Fuck, I’ve thought so many times of how I could have you and I don’t think I could do it much justice right now.”

“Jaime - ”

“It matters,” Jaime said firmly, catching her eyes with his, “it matters to me that when I have you - when we’re together - that it’ll be without interruption, without some damn party going on the background.”

It came in a rush, as if the little bubble of privacy they’d formed suddenly gave way with a soft _pop_ and all the noises came through, from the windowpane buzzing in time with the bass of the music to the distant hum of the crowd, the faded screams and splashes from the lake. 

“Oh,” Brienne said softly.

“You matter to me,” Jaime repeated. He brought his hands to her face. “More than anything, don’t think I’m holding back because I don’t want you. I do.”

She knew that. It was so very clear and true and nothing she could ever doubt. With that, Brienne kissed him gently and said, “We don’t have to go back down yet, though, do we?”

“Not if I want to get arrested for public indecency,” Jaime said wryly, motioning to himself vaguely. 

“Come on,” Brienne told him, pulling him toward the bed, urging him to lie down while she eased onto her side next to him. 

She liked how he looked in her bed, even if they were lying on it the wrong way, their feet hanging off the side edge. She liked, even more, the way Jaime looked at her in the dim light of the room, his eyes soft and affectionate. It stirred a similar want inside her chest, cooling the fever that had risen between them. But not by much. 

Brienne moved in to kiss him again, slowly, deeply. She ran her hand over his chest, roaming the curve of his collarbone, the flatness of his sternum and then the plane of his abdomen. It was then that Jaime caught onto what she was doing and his muscles tightened under her hand, his mouth opened wider as he drew in a long breath. 

Dipping her hand lower, Brienne ran her fingers under the edge of his pants before deftly unbuttoning them and sliding her hand beneath his underwear. 

She enjoyed his gasp against her lips, and quietly grinned when she ran her hand over the silky, firm heat of his dick and thumbed the leaking tip of it. His hips spasmed when she pressed the flat of her thumb against the frenulum, such a boring word for a spot that made Jaime let out an explosive keen in response. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled into her mouth, “godsdamnit, Brienne.”

Brienne pulled out her hand, only briefly, to unzip him and push down his underwear, to ruck up his shirt. She made sure he watched as she brought her hand up and licked the palm before returning it to his dick. 

“Holy fuck, that is the hottest godsdamn, SHIT, Brienne,” Jaime moaned as she clasped him and started stroking him steadily.

“You know, I do like how you say my name,” she told him teasingly, “I see what you mean now.”

“Gods, I knew it, I knew you were going make me lose my godsdamn mind, please, oh shit, fuck, yes, Brienne,” Jaime babbled in a way that wasn’t surprising in the least and Brienne almost giggled again with delight at it and at her own audacity, “that’s it, please, fucking shit, your hands, I’ve thought about your hands, but it’s not even close, so much better - “

“My hands?” Brienne started twisting her fist, gliding easily now with all that was being released from the head of Jaime’s dick, almost fighting against him as his hips pulsed upwards. He let out a shout of surprise when she moved her hand down further to cup his balls and squeeze them gently. “Never thought much about my hands.”

“Fucking perfect, damn it, I could spend hours watching you put in lines, so steady and smooth and FUCK, right there - ”

He shoved up on his elbows, one hand grasping forward, curling in her hair and bringing Brienne’s mouth to his. It was hardly a kiss, more merely panting into each others mouths, Brienne stroking faster, feeling Jaime harden further, almost swell under her palm. It was a little cruel, to be sure, but she backed off when she felt he was close and Jaime grumbled loudly into her mouth before pulling her lips in again. 

It was a pattern she repeated, because knowing Jaime was willing to give her control to the point of mania left her amazed and hungry for more. Never in her life had it been like this, with anyone, she’d never known it could be like this and she wanted him to feel as good as he’d made her. 

_You matter, too_, Brienne told him silently, strengthening her grip and upping the pace, _that’s why it’s different, better_.

The next time she felt him approach his climax, she allowed it, encouraged it by shoving her hand down and pressing _hard_ in the space behind his balls, awed when Jaime let out an almost ravaged cry as his come spurted out over her arm and his stomach. He let out a loud, fraught groan when she fisted his dick again, sliding her fingers all over it, urging the rest of his release. It was when he batted at her hand, muttering _too much_ that she let him go completely.

Jaime collapsed back against the bed, one arm thrown over his face, chest moving rapidly as he tried to regain his breath. 

Brienne held back from saying anything for a few minutes, until his breathing evened out and he threw his hand back out, staring at the ceiling. “You all right?”

“I’ll let you know when my eyes uncross,” Jaime said with a laugh. But he kissed her back when she leaned in and protested when she slid away. 

“Hold on,” Brienne told him, walking to her en suite to wash off and retrieve a towel, wetting it and coming back to wipe off his stomach. Jaime watched as she did it, not moving a muscle, a satisfied smile on his face while Brienne redid his zipper and buttoned him up. “We didn’t make it to the bathroom. Tyrion will be disappointed.”

“Close enough,” Jaime replied. 

They both laughed, reaching for each other at the same time to kiss again, almost lazily. For several minutes, they rolled back and forth on the bed, hands smoothing over shoulders and backs, limbs tangling, Jaime taunting her by hitching up her knees again and grinding down. Brienne flipped him over, sitting on his thighs and holding down his shoulders until he pleaded mercy. 

She found that his hair was even softer than she’d thought, and that Jaime curled into her hand like a cat when she stroked through it, his eyes falling shut and a blissful smile on his face. He learned where she was ticklish and it was only after she squirmed away that he stopped, pulling her back down so that Brienne could lay her head on his chest. 

“Can I stay tonight?” he asked her, the timbre of his voice rumbling against her ear. “Not for anything, just-”

“I’d like that,” Brienne told him. 

Jaime gave a happy little hum and Brienne relaxed against him. They spoke softly, trading stories of what they’d seen at the party so far. Jaime told of a group of ICU nurses challenging the procedures team to a shotgun relay, little Talla Tarly managing to squeak ahead at the end and bring in a win for the lab. She told him about Walda and Missandei and Jaime sounded outrageously smug when he said he’d put in the paperwork himself on Monday. 

The longer they stayed, the harder it was to justify leaving and they’d both started making excuses for themselves, agreeing that perhaps they didn’t have to go back at all, when it happened. 

The music, constant and lively throughout the evening, hit the briefest dip between songs - and revealed in it a howl of outrage, followed by something tumbling to the ground. 

Brienne popped up, listening hard as the next song came on, not loud enough to fully cover the sounds of a scuffle and raised voices. 

“Aw, shit,” Jaime groaned and she heard him follow as she ran out the door and down the stairs. 

She burst out of the back door just as the music cut off, Lancel yelling at someone to stay back from some equipment that had been knocked over, his voice gone shrill and panicky. 

The area where guests had been dancing was cleared, people pushed to the margins and watching the figures in the center. Brienne’s eyes zoomed around, taking in as much as she could, trying to make sense of the mayhem. The dim, pulsing lights made it difficult, but she was able to make out that Sansa was one of the figures, protectively embracing her PA, Jeyne Poole. Margaery was in front of them, shoving away a sharp-faced, swearing woman. 

But they weren’t the worst offenders. That turned out to be Ramsay Bolton, he of the coroner’s office, an unpleasant piece of work that Brienne would have preferred never to have known where she lived. He was struggling against Sandor Clegane, who still had beer bottles taped onto his hands, and so had apparently resorted to restraining Ramsay by hooking his elbows under Ramsay’s armpits and lifting him clear off the ground. Ramsay was wriggling madly, kicking out his legs like a felled cockroach and loudly demanding to be released. 

Jaime pulled up behind her and whistled lowly at the sight. 

“I can’t believe you invited him,” Brienne hissed. 

“Believe me, I did not,” Jaime replied and took in the crowd. “Or them, or… is that Bran Stark?”

It was, indeed, Bran Stark - who to Brienne’s recollection was a month or two shy of being able to legally hold the beer in his hand - and he shrank slightly when both Jaime and Brienne glared at him. When Brienne turned to Jaime with the same look, he lifted a shoulder and reluctantly uttered, “So, this may have gotten a bit out of hand.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and stormed into the chaos. “What in the seven hells is going on?”

“That asshole needs to keep his hands to himself,” Margaery yelled, flinging an accusing hand at Ramsay and again blocking the woman trying to get past her. “He was all over Jeyne and that shit is not okay!”

“Liar! Ramsay wouldn’t touch that little bitch,” the woman yelled back, pushing at Margaery even harder, “I’ll fucking show her-”

“Give it up, Myranda, we all saw him,” Sansa interrupted, her face livid, “just like we saw Jeyne trying to get away. Look at her, she’s already got marks!”

She held up Jeyne’s arm, showing off a darkening bruise on her arm - and Brienne saw red. 

Marching forward, Brienne wrapped her hand around Myranda’s arm as she tried to shove past Margaery again and pulled her back. Seething, she said, “You need to go. Both of you.”

Whatever Myranda thought she would say, the words were lost when she looked up, and up some more, to look Brienne in the face. Brienne felt a vicious satisfaction in looming over the other woman as she blanched in response. 

“Leave. Now.” She kept her voice soft on purpose, but allowed enough of her fury in it to get the message across. Myranda tore her arm away, rather theatrically since Brienne had been letting go at the same moment, and cast a glare at the trio of women, then Ramsay, and stomped off. Brienne looked around until she found Arya, who nodded knowingly and followed after.

Assured that Arya would make sure Myranda was gone, Brienne turned to the mismatched men, ignoring Ramsay’s struggling and the way he spat insults. “Sandor, can you get him out of here? He wasn’t invited and I don’t want him here.”

Instead of agreeing, Sandor asked, “Sure you want to let this little shit get off scot free? I can hold him for a while yet.”

Brienne was about to decline when Margaery spoke up. “Someone better hit that jerk, I swear to the gods. Jeyne gets a bruise, he gets a bruise, period.”

“Margaery-”

“No, Brienne” Margaery was visibly trembling with anger, “Bolton harrasses women every day, _every day_, and he comes here and thinks he can get away with it? No, this needs to stop and it’s going to stop here.”

She turned to the crowd that had gone quiet and tense, scanning them until she said, “Theon! I know for sure you hate this ass, how about you?”

Theon straightened proudly and then slumped in the next second. “Shit, Marg, I can’t just go punching people these days. I’ve got four surgeries on Monday.”

Margaery crossed her arms in annoyance and turned to Robb. He was obviously interested in the offer, as evidenced by his chewing at the duct tape and bottles on his own hands and mumbling around them, “Gimme a sec, be righ’ der.” 

Robb’s glassy eyes, flushed cheeks and continued shirtlessness made Brienne think that maybe he wasn’t the right candidate, something Margaery clearly thought, as well.

“Jon?” Margaery asked, exasperated. 

He gave her a flat look. “I’m an officer of the law, Marg, what do you think?”

“Oh, my gods,” Margaery groaned, “is anyone going to _fucking hit this guy_?”

“Fine, damn it, I’ll do it!”

And so came Sansa Stark, esteemed pediatrician, who regularly treated her coworkers with home-baked lemon bars, knitted caps for babies in the NICU, volunteered at soup kitchens and still managed to look ethereal through all of it. She gently guided Jeyne into Margaery’s arms, stalked forward and, in the second Ramsay stopped struggling against Sandor in amused derision, slapped him solidly across the face.

The handprint left behind was quite impressive, Brienne had to admit. 

Sansa followed it by sticking a finger in Ramsay’s face and, in the coldest voice Brienne had ever heard come out of her mouth, said, “This is over, do you understand me? If I hear you have so much as breathed in any woman’s direction, I will make it my life’s goal to tear you limb from limb, you useless piece of shit.”

Sansa looked up at Sandor and gave him a decisive nod. “Get him out of here, Clegane.”

“Gladly,” Sandor said with relish, shook Ramsay like a rag doll in his arms and walked off the patio.

It seemed that everyone in the crowd was on tenterhooks, afraid to be the first to speak, until Margaery threw her arms up and shouted, “Sansa!”

That was all it took, arms and fists went into the air and screams of _Sansa!_ followed. Someone randomly yelled _Hodor!_, but Brienne couldn’t see who it was. 

Sansa stared, wide-eyed, at the cheering crowd, gave an embarrassed nod and returned to Jeyne and Margaery. Brienne joined them as the music came back on, wordlessly motioning to the house and they all went inside together. She waited with Margaery as Sansa checked Jeyne over. 

“I can’t believe this happened,” Brienne said under her breath.

“It’s fin- no, it’s not fine, but don’t even think about blaming yourself,” Margaery said with an understanding glance, “you didn’t invite him or his maniac of a girlfriend. I’m certain that Jaime didn’t either.”

“He didn’t.”

“You gotta admit, it was incredibly satisfying to see Sansa smack the snot out of him, though,” Margaery smirked, “gods, I hope someone was filming that.”

“I kind of hope no one did, I don’t want Sansa to get in trouble,” Brienne said. 

“Nah, that’ll never get out to anyone who doesn’t enjoy it, I’ll make sure of it. Besides, how likely is it that Bolton’s going to admit that Sansa Stark handed his ass to him?”

Brienne sighed. “It was just a slap, Margaery.”

“That’s not the way I’m going to be telling it,” Margaery replied gleefully.

###### 

A short time later, Brienne made it back outside, practically forced out the door by Sansa and Margaery when she made noises about getting Jeyne home for the night. 

“We’ve got her,” Sansa had said, “go take care of your guests, everyone’s still having a great time, you should, too.”

“Yeah, Jeyne’s got us, are you saying we aren’t enough?” Margaery scowled a little playfully and added, “Also, I swear if you don’t manage to make out with Jaime at least once tonight, our friendship is over. Go forth and conquer, Brienne.”

Deciding against informing Margaery that said conquering was already accomplished, Brienne rejoined the party, craning her head around until she found Jaime collaring Bran and a couple of familiar looking kids she remembered seeing around the Stark house. When she approached, he was finishing off a stern-sounding lecture, Bran and his friends nodding quickly and scampering away before Brienne could say anything.

Brienne watched as they got in a car, Bran thankfully not in the driver’s seat, and left. “What was that about?”

“Word’s getting around, apparently,” Jaime said, unable to completely mask his pride. “They heard something from Stannis’ kid, saw some posts online and decided to make their way over. Though they’d just gotten here and didn’t know it was your place or that the other Starks were going to be here, so there’s that. I just threatened to sic Arya on them and that did the trick.”

“She is the most terrifying out of all of them,” Brienne agreed.

“Sansa’s giving her some competition on that front,” Jaime grinned brightly, “though, you…”

“Me?” Brienne asked, uncertain. 

“Very authoritative,” Jaime said, his eyes gleaming, “very hot.”

“Jaime… just… shut up,” Brienne said haltingly. She tried walking away, only for Jaime to wrap his arms around her middle from behind and laugh into her ear. He refused to let her go, forcing them to walk in tandem back to join everyone else, and she was laughing helplessly before long. 

His silliness was somehow contagious and she didn’t fight him when he suggested joining in a game of quarters with a group of physicians from his private practice, Arthur Dayne grousing loudly when Howland Reed beat him soundly. They followed it with flip cup, playing together and then on opposite teams, Brienne’s coming out victorious to Jaime’s overdramatic defeat. 

She’d worried about drinking again, keeping to a minimal amount until Jaime pulled her in for a quick kiss and said, “I got you, all right?” because he did. Of course he did. 

It was easy after that, really.

They ran into Renly and Loras again, Brienne far more relaxed as they traded stories of the last ten years of their lives. They discovered that most of the food had been eaten, only to turn and find a large stack of pizzas being delivered. Brienne refused the keg stand, but stood in the group watching, cheering on Oberyn Martell as he outlasted everyone else, to Bronn’s particular displeasure. And, amazingly, Jaime convinced her to dance.

“Come on,” Jaime had said, tilting his head at the patio, “at least one.”

“I really don’t dance well, Jaime,” Brienne said, though she let him bring her the very edge of the dancing mass. “It’s not something I’ve done much.”

“You don’t have to have done it much, you just need to do it with me,” Jaime told her, pulling her in by her hips, “and all you have to do is let me put my hands here and you put your hands on my shoulders - yes, there - and just sway with me a bit.”

“It’s a fast song,” Brienne pointed out.

“So sway faster.”

He guided her from side to side, pushing them both into a semblance of a rhythm, though Brienne felt a little foolish at first. But something in Jaime’s looseness translated well, the bopping movement of his shoulders under her forearms, the way he closed his eyes and moved one of his hands to wrap around the small of her back. Their ease in moving together came faster than she would have ever thought, especially when she closed her eyes in return and let their bodies flow in unison. When there was a sudden slow in tempo, Brienne just followed his lead, their swaying smoothing out, gone a little sensual until the music picked up again.

It was in her head now, or she was out of her own head, because it was far less complicated than she thought it would be, bouncing her heels, shimmying her shoulders without Jaime doing it first. Jaime’s light, delighted laughter rang in her ears and she answered him in kind. 

He’d said only one, but it was so simple to stay, moving in harmony, getting lost in the feeling of Jaime’s hands on her back, on her hips, the way he swiftly kissed her throat when she lifted her face to the bright lights, their colors mesmerizing her momentarily. Before she knew it, they were somewhere in the middle of the dancers, their attention only on each other. 

They made it through half a dozen songs before the heat got to her and Brienne begged off, Jaime leaving her on the back stoop while he went to get them something to drink. She was waving at her face with her hand, using the other to pull at her sweaty shirt when he returned with a bottle of water for each of them. 

Jaime maneuvered around to sit on the step behind her, pulling her into the vee of his legs, both of them drinking quietly for a few minutes before Jaime brought his mouth to her ear and asked, “So. Pretty good idea, huh?”

“Yeah,” Brienne said with a happy grin, leaning back to meet his lips in a soft, unhurried kiss. “It was a really good idea.”

###### 

Naturally, that’s when the cops showed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Oberyn Martell is a urologist that specializes in sexual disorders. I feel the people need to know that. 
> 
> He is **very** good.


	3. i will not play this out discreetly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are _hard_, readers. And because they take up so much space with the talky talk, an epilogue will follow in a few days. Slipsthrufingers continues to be the best person to bounce ideas off of and I'll forever be thankful for her patience with me. K, just take the compliment. You're awesome. Thank you for the song suggestion, as well.
> 
> The chapter's song is from The Heart is a Muscle by Gang of Youths and it's a nice blend of both Jaime and Brienne's head spaces, particularly in the second half of the chapter. Listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y5OpvDdVtYU).

“Okay, okay, let me see if I’ve got this.” Brienne turned the cards over and over in her hands until she had them mostly straightened out, her eyes getting wider as she read them. “You must be joking.”

“Say it,” Tyrion pointed his beer bottle at her, “everything aloud.”

“Aloud or allowed?” Renly asked, shuffling his own cards. 

“Either, both, yes, go on, Brienne,” Tyrion said with a flick of his hand. 

Brienne tried frowning, but as the words made it through her fuzzy brain, she couldn’t help but chortle. “Fine, _My plan for world domination begins with_… and someone gave me _going around punching people_, seems a tad aggressive, and then there’s _seeing my father cry_-”

“That had to be Tyrion,” Jaime volunteered.

“Shh, next is _pumping out a baby every nine months_, that’s just not advisable, then _insatiable bloodlust_, and… oh, gods… _swiftly achieving orgasm_.”

“And we have a winner,” Margaery cheered. 

“There’s one more.” Brienne said it quickly before she could be interrupted again, “A _slightly shittier parallel universe_.”

Ygritte gave the card a hard look from across the coffee table. “That makes no sense.”

“It doesn’t always,” Tyrion said with heavy faux-wisdom. Next to Brienne, Pod hunched a little in his seat and shamefacedly bemoaned, “I didn’t have any good cards.”

“Next time, maybe,” Brienne replied kindly. She shuffled through the cards again before making her choice. “All right, since world domination won’t begin with politeness, I’m going with insatiable bloodlust.”

“Thank you!” Jaime plucked the card out of her hold. 

He was reaching for the black deck when thumping noises came from behind them. There was nothing that Brienne could see to explain it, so she clambered over the back of her couch to peek into her office, catching Robb attempting a sloppy haymaker into her punching bag, followed by a poorly balanced crane kick. Theon righted him as he stumbled back and then tried again. Brienne laughed to herself and left them to it; she guessed Robb would completely tire himself out before long. 

Honestly, she was feeling herself fade as the hour grew later and she stifled a yawn against the back of her hand as she looked out the window of her front door. The parts of her front lawn that had doubled as a parking area had mostly cleared out and a single police car remained in the driveway, with a few people around it. Jeyne and Sansa were there, taking advantage of the opportunity to file a report on Ramsay; Jon was with them, too, having recognized the officers who had appeared on her doorstep almost an hour before, citing a noise complaint. 

With neighbors at least a half-acre away in either direction, and with a thick copse of trees in between, there was little doubt of who had actually set the cops on them. Still, Brienne felt a smug satisfaction that Ramsay would receive his just desserts. If anything, he’d done her a favor in clearing out the rambunctious group that had formed in her backyard; they’d left the area in absolute chaos. Pia, however, had promised she had a plan to resolve the issue in the morning before she stuffed another SUV full of drunken partygoers and drove them safely home. Once the cops - Grenn and Pyp according to Jon - were appeased, Brienne had been shuffled inside and officially introduced to the best and worst card game ever. 

She passed back by the couch to the sound of Jaime saying, “And the winner for: _the blind date was going horribly until we discovered our shared interest in… sweet, sweet vengeance._” To which Ygritte whooped loudly and took the card from his hand. 

Brienne chuckled and made her way to the kitchen, where Lancel and Loras were deep in a conversation that had the Lannister appearing rather excited. She promptly forgot what she had come to the room for, saw the half-filled bottle of wine that Margaery had brought and took it back with her. 

Settling in between Jaime and Pod again, Brienne grappled with the half-stuck cork, barely noticing when Margaery inelegantly shoved Pod to the side and took his place, insisting that Brienne owed it to her to share. 

They passed it back and forth, drinking straight from the spout, Brienne occasionally rubbing away Margaery’s lipstick before taking a sip. Robb finally gave up the ghost, stumbling into the room and laying down on the carpet at their feet, letting out small snuffles as he wiggled into a comfortable position. It wasn’t long before Sansa and Jeyne came back in, squeezing together into the loveseat beside Theon. 

Sitting amongst them, Brienne found herself grinning foolishly, leaning into Jaime’s side as her body felt heavier and heavier. Even if the night had been this, just this, a small gathering of people, playing a game, sharing drinks and laughing, she would have been thrilled. But that it came at the tail end of a party where she’d received countless goodbye hugs from guests, listened to people pronounce it _such an awesome night_ and say _please let me know if you do this again_, it went beyond anything she could have expected. 

And that was nothing on the Jaime of it all, the way he sat next to her, pressed close, the memory of his lips on hers still so fresh it was almost as if she could still feel it. Brienne turned in his direction, not knowing the expression on her own face, but saw a warm fondness on his as he slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to kiss the top of her head. 

Loras joined them, kneeling next to Renly to ask if he was ready to go, to which Renly said, “So you’ve got it sorted, then?”

“Looks like we can meet up next week,” Loras replied and then looked over at Lancel, who had followed in a daze. “It took more convincing than I thought it would.”

“That’s because…” Lancel trailed off, looking shocked, “I didn’t think anybody ever thought that I could do something with it.”

“Something with what, exactly?” Tyrion asked. 

“I’m working on setting up my next club,” Loras explained. “Still in the planning stages, but I’ve been on the lookout for some in house talent and I think Lancel could be a real asset.”

Tyrion and Jaime had eerily identical expressions of skepticism even as Margaery and Pod gave their congratulations. “Lancel.” Tyrion said brusquely. “This one here. Our cousin, Lancel.”

“Yes,” Loras replied, plainly annoyed at Tyrion’s doubtfulness. “He’s got good stage presence and a real talent for mixing, I haven’t heard anything like it in a while.”

“Loras has a great ear for these things, the last guy he found has already signed with a label,” Renly explained further, smiling as Lancel almost vibrated with glee at hearing it. “Not to oversell it, but Lancel could have a real future in music if he commits to it.”

“I am so committed, believe me,” Lancel hurriedly promised, “it’s all I ever wanted.”

“That’s what he said about culinary school and then seminary school,” Jaime muttered, only loud enough for Brienne to hear. She smacked a loose fist against his chest and said, “Don’t be an ass.”

Jaime grumbled but sounded marginally more supportive when he said, “Good on you, Lancel, let us know when you have your first show.” Tyrion’s betrayed look had nothing on Lancel’s wide, glowing smile and happy agreement.

Renly and Loras headed out the door moments later, promising to call and make plans with Brienne and Margaery. Meanwhile, Tyrion and Jaime had a short, quiet exchange with much eye rolling on Tyrion’s behalf and ending with Jaime saying, “Well, what’s the damn harm in it?”

Tyrion sighed gustily and turned to their cousin. “Fine, at least tell me you’ll come up with a better stage name than DJ Lancel, you’re not even trying with that.”

“It’s harder than you think,” Lancel said defensively. 

“Lancel,” Brienne mused aloud. She pulled the bottle from Margaery’s grip to drink from it and said, “Lancel Lannister. Deeeejay Lannister.”

Margaery giggled. “Lan-Lan, double Lan!”

“DJ Double Lan, gods no,” Ygritte objected.

They kept trading ideas back and forth, Lancel gaily agreeing with anything suggested, even the horrible ones Robb mumbled out from where his face was squished against the floor. Jon came inside in the middle of it, puzzled by Sansa yelling out, “Lando! DJ Lando!”

“You know, like with deux like two, Lan-deux,” Sansa held up her fingers in a peace symbol, as if that helped any, “DJ Landeux.”

“Simple and yet still pretentious as fuck,” Tyrion nodded assuredly, “I think we have a winner.”

“DJ Landeux,” Lancel whispered in amazement.

“And with that,” Tyrion said in an undertone toward Jaime and Brienne, “we are as much to blame when Uncle Kevan buys a recording studio to indulge his son’s latest venture.”

Jaime tapped his beer bottle against Tyrion’s, shook his head, and drank. 

“What’s this then?” Ygritte’s voice broke through the chatter. Jon had dropped into the spot next to her on the floor and she clasped his wrist in her hand, evaluating it carefully as Jon gently attempted to pull away. “This looks new.”

“Do I know you?” Jon tugged his hand again, drawing everyone’s eyes to the redness of his knuckles, growing visibly irritated when Ygritte refused to let him loose. 

“No, but I know the look of a fist that very recently introduced itself to someone’s face. What happened, mister-officer-of-the-law, did you trip and accidentally punch that asshole once no one was looking? At least twice from the looks of it.” Ygritte raised a single eyebrow and smirked even as Sansa gasped and said, “Jon, you didn’t!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jon said firmly. He’d given up, however, on pulling away from Ygritte and just looked resigned as she studied his knuckles further and clucked her tongue. 

“Thank you, Jon,” Jeyne said softly from between Theon and Sansa. 

Jon only gave her a sheepish smile and sighed as Ygritte stood and said, “Well, I know what I’m talking about and that needs some ice on it. Come on, Officer Snow.”

“It’s Jon,” he complained as he followed her to the kitchen. 

“All right, Officer Jon,” she replied. He only groaned in response. 

Tyrion snorted once they were out of view. “Looks like we have contenders to christen the bathroom after all.”

“They’ve literally just met,” Brienne replied slowly, wondering if she’d missed any part of the exchange. After a second, she shrugged and tipped back the wine bottle again. 

“I know what I see,” Tyrion adjusted himself on the armchair, crossing his ankles and grinning brightly, “dear brother, you’ve missed your chance.”

“Damn,” Jaime said blithely, enough that Tyrion gave him a very suspicious look. 

They played another few rounds of the game, each making less sense than the last, especially for Brienne as she finished off the wine. She knew she should probably have stopped long before, but she wasn’t quite ready for the night, in all its messiness and joy, to end. She couldn’t deny her exhaustion, however, and she dipped her head back, sinking into the couch, drifting along to the sound of laughter and idle conversation. Even so, Jaime’s voice was prominent among the rest, his arm still around her, his body solid and warm along hers. 

It nudged the memories to the surface, of the press of him against her chest and the door at her back, how she’d held him on the bed and Brienne felt a rush of heat all over, unable to fight off the smile that came to her face - and she sat up with a jolt. 

“You okay?” 

Jaime. Jaime Jaime Jaime.

_Jaime was staying the night_. 

“Uh,” Brienne said slowly, trying her best to pull her hazy thoughts together. Slightly panicked, she leaned toward one side and, in what she hoped was a whisper, said, “Marg, I think I’m drunk. You need to help me, I don’t think I should have sex with Jaime if I’m drunk.”

“What?” Jaime asked. 

Brienne paused, stared at him and then turned to her other side to Margaery. “I think I’m drunk-” 

“What’s up with him?” Margaery asked, blinking slowly. 

She turned to find Jaime leaning forward, nose almost to his knees and his shoulders shaking in silent hysterics. 

“I don’t know,” Brienne replied, “but you gotta help-”

“I think it’s time to wrap things up,” Jaime said, wiping at his face and laughing again. “Margaery, you think you can help Brienne get upstairs?”

Brienne’s heart sank at the thought of Jaime staying behind. “No, you can come, we just can’t-”

“I’ll come up,” Jaime promised, his eyes bright with mirth, “but maybe Margaery and Sansa can get you sorted and they can stick around, if you want.”

“Oh, it’ll be like a sleepover!” Margaery jumped up, swayed in place, spread her arms wide to steady herself and then motioned for Brienne to follow. 

“I’ve never had a sleepover,” Brienne mused.

“You never had a party either and that went pretty well.” Margaery grinned and Brienne couldn’t argue with that logic. They went upstairs, Sansa following behind once she’d tucked a now sleeping Jeyne in with a throw blanket, eliciting a promise from Theon to keep an eye on her. 

In her room, Margaery very seriously took in the news that Jaime was staying the night, twigging onto Brienne’s concern after three or four different attempts of explanation. “So what you’re saying,” Margaery said with a careful - if moderately slurred - tone, “is that you need a chaperone.”

Brienne considered it and said, “Yes.”

Sansa giggled lightly. “So that you and Jaime keep it in your pants?”

“...yes.”

“But it’s already been out of your pants at least once tonight.” Margaery was probably trying her best to look annoyed; mostly, she just looked sleepy.

Brienne felt herself go red. “Technically?”

Margaery squinted at her for several more seconds before pronouncing, “You have picked your time to confess well, my friend, because I am way too drunk to keep track of this.”

“Just… stay would you?” Brienne pleaded. “I don’t want him to leave, but I don’t-”

“Trust yourself not to jump him the first chance you get?” Sansa was far too sober to be part of this conversation, Brienne decided. 

Margaery, however, was digging through the dresser drawers and tossing items in Brienne’s direction. “This’ll help, for sure.”

Sansa left to rustle up some linens as Margaery assisted Brienne into another t-shirt, then another, followed by a sweater and then clumsily helped her change from her jeans to a pair of boxers and leggings, with set of sweatpants on top. When she returned, Sansa found Margaery miming dusting her hands off with satisfaction at the sight of a burrito-fied Brienne. 

“My work here is done,” Margaery said proudly.

Brienne looked down at herself and then back at her. “You are _such_ a good friend.” 

Margaery let out an _aaawww_ in response, to which Sansa laughed again and guided them both to lay down: Brienne in her bed and Margaery in the nest Sansa had made on the floor. After she turned off the lamp, Sansa joined Margaery and Brienne could hear her say, “You really are a good friend.”

“And you’re my best friend,” Margaery said back.

“You’re my best friend, too,” Sansa replied. 

“No, but you’re my _best_ friend,” Margaery insisted. 

“I know, Margaery, we’re best friends.”

“Do you think we should make out?”

Brienne clapped her hand over her mouth, muffling her laughter as Sansa said, “Maybe we can talk about that another time.”

“Cause I bet it would be awesome.”

“Goodnight, Margaery.”

“Goodnight, Sansa. Goodnight, Brienne!”

“Goodnight, Margaery, Sansa,” Brienne said with a chuckle. “And thanks, you know, for everything.”

Any response on their part was interrupted by the dip in mattress when Jaime crawled onto the bed from the other side, so silently that she hadn’t even realized he’d come into the room. Brienne turned as Jaime climbed under the covers, paused and asked, “What in the world are you wearing?”

“Margaery helped,” Brienne explained shyly. 

“Sweatsuit armor, I can respect that,” Jaime said with a smile in his voice. He edged closer until Brienne opened her arms and tugged him in. With that, he wrapped himself around her, his mouth brushing her cheek as he said, “Not quite how I pictured our first night together.”

Brienne shrugged and then resisted audibly moaning when Jaime grazed his lips along her jaw until he captured her mouth, his hands tightening on her hips. She felt herself reflexively arch against him, opening her mouth to slide her tongue along his, clutching at his back and pulling so that he settled his weight on her, murmuring when he trailed down to suckle at her clavicle. Her hands roamed lower, humming in approval when she discovered he’d had no qualms in divesting of his jeans before joining her and gleefully palmed his ass. They undulated once, twice against each other, making her blood strum loudly in her ears despite the many layers between them. 

She whined in disappointment when Jaime reluctantly pulled back to say, “We should get some sleep.”

“You could totally keep going,” Margaery piped up from the floor.

“Oh, gods,” Brienne muttered, mortified.

“Always helpful, that Margaery,” Jaime said with a laugh. 

It mattered little, because as soon as Jaime eased back, bringing Brienne with him to rest her head on his chest, she was out.

###### 

She woke once during the night, whatever was left of it, feeling stifled and sticky in all her layers. Brienne threw off the blankets and sluggishly twisted out of the pair of leggings and sweatpants, kicking at them until they flew off the end of the bed. She’d shoved off the sweater and was struggling with the outer t-shirt when Jaime roused, blinking sleepily at her; Brienne froze, all too aware of her midriff on display where both shirts had ridden up, the way her legs were fully visible beyond the blanket’s safe cover.

Jaime only shuffled closer, wrapped his arm around her stomach, mumbled _best dream ever_, and fell back to sleep.

###### 

It was the brightness of the room that woke her next, painful even against her closed eyes. Brienne brought a hand up to shield herself, groaning lowly, and turned to hide her face in a pillow. She found herself bumping up against a warm body instead. 

Brienne puzzled over the idea of it for several seconds before slowly peeling back her hand, peeping open one eye and then the other. And there he was, Jaime Lannister, fast asleep in her bed. 

_Huh_.

The previous day didn’t come rushing back all at once, a vanished set of hours that announced themselves in a flash of realization. It was already there, perhaps a little muddled on the edges, but present all the same. Jaime coming over early. Meeting Tyrion, then Pia. The kiss in her kitchen, more monumental than she’d ever anticipated. Wine. Shots. Jaime’s smile, Pod and burgers, Jaime’s embrace, rambling hand in hand through the crowd, _JaimeJaimeJaime_, Sansa’s fierce expression, dancing, laughing, drinking and stumbling up to her room, Jaime all the while. 

And now, Jaime Lannister, in her bed. Again. 

Brienne pushed herself up, palms flat against the mattress; her stomach rolled threateningly as she changed positions. She smacked her lips open and closed, repulsed by the sour taste in her mouth. It took careful work, with tentative movements, to slide her legs over the edge of the bed, watching Jaime for signs of life all the while. She should have been watching the floor, because the moment she set her feet down, she nearly shrieked at the sensation of yet another body against her toes. 

Heaving a deep breath, Brienne urged her startled heart to calm down, to note that it was only Margaery on the ground, comforter tossed off, kept warm by clasping around Sansa like a needy koala. They shared a pillow, Margaery’s face dipped into the vibrant hair covering Sansa’s neck and shoulders from behind. It made Brienne wish she were a mean enough friend to take a photo, but then her stomach lurched again and she made the quietest, quickest work she could to the bathroom.

After retching into her sink with no results to show for it, Brienne pulled a tank and shorts from her closet to change and and then sat on the edge of the tub to brush her teeth. She’d automatically hit the button to run its mechanized function and nearly fumbled it, dancing it between her hands when the noise blared in the otherwise silent bathroom. Finally catching it and turning it off, she leaned forward to check through the doorway to see if anyone else had woken and sighed deeply when she saw that everyone slept on. 

When she felt that enough of the fuzz in her mouth had been scraped away, Brienne turned on the taps to rinse off, sparing only a brief glance at the mirror in the dim room. But then she did a double-take, alarmed by a moderately large hickey at the base of her throat and, more so, by her pallor and the dark bruises under her eyes. 

Cringing made her head hurt, but Brienne managed it anyway, tearing her eyes away from the sight at the same time. 

She stood in the bathroom doorway for several moments, adjusting to the sunlight again, but mostly just watching Jaime, his slow, steady breathing pattern, his serene features, how he’d managed to take over most of the bed without her notice. 

_You do that a lot, don’t you_? Brienne asked him silently and rubbed her fingers across her aching forehead. Even after a late, riotous night that left her looking more unfortunate than usual, Jaime looked like he could be the star of a racy mattress commercial, tempting women to come buy the product in hopes they could take the golden man home along with their purchase. 

But he was in _her_ bed, where he’d joined her more than once during the night.

It just looked different in the full light of day. 

Brienne bit her lip and hated - _hated_ \- the curling uncertainty that newly writhed and ached in her stomach, at the thought of what she had looked like beside him in all her ungainliness. She wanted to shake him awake to know. _Did you mean it? Am I crazy? Are you?_

It was harder to answer than she would have thought only a few hours before. And though she’d originally thought she’d return to him, instead Brienne left the room.

###### 

Her living room was not quite the disaster she’d anticipated. Cards were spread out everywhere and there were clusters of bottles and empty pizza boxes on every surface, but what drew her eyes were her friends. Robb was still prone on the floor, though someone had managed to squeeze a throw pillow between his cheek and the carpet. Theon held Jeyne close on the loveseat, his arms protectively around her, Jeyne’s temple resting on his chest. Tyrion was tucked into the armchair, listing over to one side, his fingers clasped on his chest almost demurely, with Bronn - it was a mystery as to when he’d reappeared - sitting on the floor with his head in an uncomfortable looking angle against Tyrion’s legs. Pod was spread out on the couch, a white card emblazoned with the words _an ass pirate_ stuck to his face. 

Brienne carefully peeled it off and let out a good-natured huff when Pod rubbed at the spot in his sleep. She paused when she heard a door open on the second floor, followed by the poor attempt of two people trying to creep down the hallway and stairs. Any thoughts of Margaery and Sansa coming her way were tossed out when instead Jon and Ygritte came into view, looking rumpled and tired. They stopped short when they saw Brienne standing in the living room. 

Jon’s mouth went ajar, not a sound coming out, not even when Ygritte rolled her eyes, smacked him on the shoulder and finished coming down the stairs. 

Her voice was a hair too loud when she told Brienne, “Great party, Dr. Tarth, see you tomorrow,” gave her a slap on the back and headed out the front door with a nonchalant stroll. 

Jon and Brienne watched after her and Brienne couldn’t help but smile, just a bit. 

“We didn’t, I mean, I wouldn’t, it’s your house,” Jon started to stammer quietly. The ever stoic Jon Snow, fumbling over a girl; it was a first as far as Brienne knew.

Brienne cut him off. “Cranberry muffins.”

“What?”

“Take her for cranberry muffins, it’s her favorite,” Brienne told him and then pushed him toward the door, as well. 

Pia walked in the door as Jon made his way out, giving Brienne a small wave as she came into view. She looked offensively awake and peppy, with a pair of bright pink, rhinestone encrusted sunglasses on her head and her voice was a perfect whisper when she said, “G’morning, didn’t think I’d see you up for a while.”

“Believe me, I wish I was still asleep,” Brienne muttered and winced as her head throbbed painfully.

“Come on, I’ve got something that should help.” Pia led her to the kitchen and pulled a pitcher full of some dark green liquid from the fridge. Brienne wasn’t a stranger to smoothies, but she couldn’t claim it looked particularly appetizing, even if Pia said, “Trust me, it’ll help. Tyrion’s given me many, many opportunities to perfect it.”

Brienne choked down a cup with a few quick swallows, aware that she couldn’t hide how she gagged when Pia giggled under her breath. “Gods, that’s disgusting. Sorry.”

“I’ve tried to make it taste better, but Tyrion and Bronn insist that it loses its effectiveness when I do,” Pia said with a wince. 

She followed the green sludge with a big glass of water. “And Jaime? No opinions either way?”

“He’s never needed it,” Pia replied, frowning thoughtfully, “he doesn’t drink all that much. I think he doesn’t like how much Tyrion does, though I don’t think he’s ever told him so. He did mention he worries about his sister sometimes.”

Brienne rolled the glass between her hands, scanning over her admittedly shoddy memories of the night before. They’d played games and shared a few shots, she’d even seen Jaime with a beer bottle in his hand, but it was true, he’d had much less than anyone else of which she could recall. 

“Next step is to get some fresh air, come on,” Pia gently took Brienne’s elbow, guiding her to the back door, “unless you want to get some more rest.”

“No, I, uh, Jaime’s still asleep and I - ” Brienne stuttered and flushed when Pia grinned knowingly at her, “I d-don’t want to wake him. I think I need a little space.”

Pia’s happy look faded, growing more concerned until she finally said, “If you feel that’s best.”

Her tone had gone disappointed and even in her miserable, hungover state, Brienne could piece it enough together to let out a heavy breath and rubbed at her eyes before saying, “Not permanent space, nothing like that. I just need to get my head sorted, it’s been very eventful, this last day.”

“I suppose so,” Pia said grudgingly. Her lips went thin and she nodded firmly as she opened the door. “Fresh air will help that too, maybe.”

When Brienne flinched at the brightness, Pia murmured apologetically, reaching up to grab her sunglasses off the top of her head and tried to hand them over. Brienne eyed them as if they might bite and politely declined, instead reaching into a kitchen drawer to pull out a pair of aviators she knew she’d stashed inside. Though subdued, Pia made sure to hand Brienne another bottle of water before sending her off. 

She felt dreadful at the thought of Pia’s dismay, flinching again when the door shut behind her, but Brienne resolutely made her way into the backyard. The sun, while painful if she didn’t squint, felt wonderful on her skin and the tension in her muscles slowly eased away the longer she stood in place. 

There was a pleasant breeze coming from the direction of the lake and Brienne followed it automatically, skirting around the detritus on the ground: abandoned cups and plates, a soccer ball, balled up napkins, a string of lights that had come loose between the patio roof and a tree branch. The giant jenga set had been knocked to the ground, where someone had messily arranged them to spell out BUTTS. When she attempted to bend over and gather up a few pieces, Brienne’s stomach roiled dangerously and she gave up the idea of it just as quickly. 

The tables and chairs appeared to be missing, found only when Brienne glanced around and saw them slanted against the side of the house, Peck’s work if she chanced a guess. But thinking of Peck brought her mind back to Jaime and Brienne raised her eyes to her bedroom window, behind which he was likely still asleep. 

Groaning, Brienne bypassed the rest of the mess of her back lawn, her footsteps changing from shuffling against grass to the dull thunk of the dock until she reached the very end of it and sat down with a thump. 

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

It was a difficult question to answer and she turned it over and over as she looked over the gently lapping water. Pulling off her shoes, Brienne dropped her feet in and tried to untangle her thoughts. 

The further away she was, the more Brienne wished she had never left him, that she’d stayed in the blissful little bubble they’d formed where everything was easy and simple, stripped to their base desires. It was at Jaime’s side that she’d felt her most assured of what he felt, what she felt, but that wasn’t the question with which she was struggling. Between her hangover and the brutal light of day, her mind was spinning. _Could this actually work? Am I deluding myself?_

It was like the party, fun and carefree in the middle of it and then shambles left behind the day after. But who would bear the worst of it between them? Jaime, when Brienne didn’t match up to the idealized version he’d probably created in his head? Or Brienne, when Jaime had gotten his fill of her in real life and moved onto another challenge? 

_We barely know each other_, Brienne thought glumly, _there’s so many things that could go wrong, who am I to pretend that whatever love is there can survive who we really are?_

Because it was love, she couldn’t lie to herself over that, as new and shaky-legged as it was. Brienne loved his face and his smile, the feel of his arms around her body, the warmth in his laugh and brightness in his eyes when she didn’t give into his whims. She loved Jaime’s intelligence, the furrowed look he got on his face when tackling a medical mystery, the way he threw himself into anything he deemed worthy of his attention. Just the thought of any of those things brought a smile to her face. 

Maybe she knew him a little, after all. 

But Brienne had never been one to let herself get carried along by her emotions, and it worried her, her desperate hunger to let Jaime sweep her away with him, without thought of where it could all go wrong. She’d fallen into it the night before, when she was surrounded by happy company, when she was flush with the breathless possibilities that Jaime presented. 

Now it was a new day and Brienne couldn’t kid herself that she was any different than she used to be, in all the good and bad. No matter how much she preferred it, one dreamlike night wasn’t ever going to be enough to fend off a sobering reality. 

“Mind some company?”

Brienne startled badly, one hand going to her chest to settle her thundering heart, the other grasping the edge of the dock at the sound of Jaime’s voice behind her. 

He sat down next to her, handing over a napkin-wrapped bundle as he settled in. Pia’s glasses were perched on the edge of his nose, not looking even a little out of place. Brienne pulled her gaze from him, sighing softly when she opened the napkin to find a cold slice of pizza. 

“Why? Just… why?” She finally asked, motioning out with her hands. 

Jaime stared out at the water for a few seconds, bringing up the slice he’d brought for himself to bite and chew slowly before he finally answered. “Might make me sound like a little strange.”

“I’m thinking that ship has sailed, Jaime.”

He grinned crookedly and nodded in agreement. “Uh, well, it was a while back when we got hit with several traumas in a row. I wasn’t needed much, but you were constantly moving, treating in ICU and then in overflow when that got filled up.”

“Yeah,” Brienne said slowly, barely recalling the day in question.

“You looked completely wiped, but there was no way any of us could leave and we were in the locker rooms, I don’t think you even saw I was there. But I heard you on the phone, you were asking that mouth breather to bring you something to eat. I don’t know what he said, but it wasn’t a yes and you… you just looked really tired.”

“I probably was.”

“So I made a call and had some food delivered, enough for everyone so you wouldn’t feel singled out. After that, it just stuck with me, to make sure you had something.” Jaime motioned to the uneaten slice in her hand. “I thought that even if I couldn’t say anything, I’d still keep an eye out, make sure you didn’t get like that again. Became a habit after a while.”

_I love this man,_ Brienne thought wildly. It was on the tip of her tongue to say it, and she nearly did when Jaime said, “Pia said you seemed a little off, when I saw her.”

“I thought you might have,” Brienne said awkwardly, tapping at the pink glasses on his face. 

Jaime smiled slightly, but it fell from his face soon enough. “She also said something about you needing space.”

Brienne clenched her eyes shut, kicking herself inwardly. “Jaime-”

“And I thought I could do that, give you space, but last time we tried that, you drank on an empty stomach and I made a fool of myself trying to find you anyway.”

“That is… not untrue.”

“So here I am,” Jaime said with false cheerfulness. He looked away from her and started picking at his food again. Brienne watched his profile for several moments before joining him, tearing apart the slice and chewing slowly, compiling her thoughts. 

For all the disquiet that had filled her since she’d woken, it was just as she had known it would be; Jaime’s presence calmed her beyond measure. It should have scared her - no, it _did_ scare her, but if there was one person that could help her sort it out, she knew that it was the man beside her. It was enough that she was able to admit, “I’m worried about what happens next. For us.”

Jaime looked back to her and said nothing. 

“You seem so sure of me, of this,” Brienne said.

“That’s because I am,” Jaime replied. 

“But why,” Brienne asked helplessly. “How?”

“Because from the day I met you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”

“Jaime…”

“I see who you are, Brienne. I’ve seen how hard you work, how much you care about others, to the point where you run yourself to exhaustion.” Jaime crumpled the empty napkin between his hands. “I started out that way, or at least I tried. Then you came into Ms. Marbrand’s room and showed me how much I was lacking. I thought it’d wear you down like it does everyone else, like it did me, and it hasn’t. You’re still the same stubborn, mule-headed, brilliant doctor whose first words to me were to shut up and let you work.”

“I did not,” Brienne gasped. 

“You did,” Jaime said fondly. 

Brienne stared out at the lake, trying her best to sharpen the memory and completely failing at it. _Uppity know-it-all bullshit_ had been stuck in her head for years, but had she actually said that to him first? “I find it difficult to believe.”

“Trust me, I very distinctly remember that day,” Jaime replied. At Brienne’s disbelieving look, he rubbed his chin and said, “There’s a lot of reasons I do and it’s not only because that’s when we first crossed paths.”

At Brienne’s silent encouragement, Jaime grimaced and said, “I almost got married once.”

“...Okay?” Brienne tipped her head at him, questions written clear across her face, she was sure.

“This is what you have to know about Lannisters, or at least the way our father tried to raise us,” Jaime explained. He leaned back on his hands, looking everywhere but at her. “Lannisters do what they are told. And so when I was told that marrying my high school girlfriend - who just so happened to be the daughter of one of my father’s business associates - was the thing to do, I was going to do it. We went to different colleges, but we got engaged, Melara and I.

“Don’t get me wrong, I cared for her. She’d been part of my life since childhood, she’s still quite close to my sister, but there was never any… well, it wasn’t exactly a love for the ages. But we probably would have been content, which is a lot when it comes to the marriages most Lannisters end up in. The only person I knew who’d bucked tradition was my aunt Genna, but she’d had the patience to at least wait until my grandfather died before shoving her Frey husband out the door. She always said it was the best decision she’d ever made, to be her own woman.”

Jaime shifted where he sat, clearly weighing out his words before he continued. “Genna, she came to stay with us after my mother died when Cersei and I were seven. Tyrion had just been born and she became a mother to him, albeit a mother who liked to enjoy a more than occasional bender, but she tended to all of us. I know I probably would have made some epically stupid decisions if Genna hadn’t been there to keep me on the straight and narrow. Shudder to think who I would have been otherwise. Nothing good, I’m sure.

“She pulled me aside after I proposed, tried to get through to me. Genna wasn’t stupid, she knew I was doing it for my father, but I was still his son and I was going to do what was expected of me. I went to the school he chose, majored in business like he wanted, proposed to the girl he expected, it was the Lannister way and Genna knew it. So she helped get everything together, planned the engagement dinner after our junior year and I would have been married the next summer if-”

Jaime cut himself off, pressing his lips together and Brienne felt her insides freeze at the sorrow on his face. 

“We were doing a turn on the floor, Genna and me,” Jaime said in the slow, measured tones of old, unyielding grief. “I thought it was just the heat in the room or all the effort that she’d put into the day, but Genna just… dropped. One second she was saying she was feeling out of breath and the next she was falling to the ground and within a minute…”

“She was gone,” Brienne said lowly. 

“Massive heart attack,” Jaime agreed, voice strained. “I had no idea what to do, nobody there did. Nobody even tried CPR at first, we had no clue-”

“_Jaime_.”

He powered through the rest, but didn’t push Brienne off when she took his hand in hers. “Finally, one of the caterers tried compressions, someone called an ambulance, but it was too late. Knowing what I know now, the signs had been there for months, the shortness of breath, the gastric symptoms, the way she was always anxious even when things were fine. But we didn’t know. I didn’t know. I’d never felt so useless in my life.”

Brienne blinked back the tears in her eyes, taking a breath before surmising, “That’s why you went into cardiology.”

“Sat out a semester first and then, yeah, once I got back, I changed my major.” Jaime shook his head. “It’s a wonder, my actual mother died in childbirth and it didn’t - I mean, it hurt, but it didn’t change me the way losing Genna did. We all struggled, but Tyrion and I stopped being the good Lannister sons after that. For my part, I just kept hearing Genna’s voice in my head, about being my own person for once. So I ended things with Melara, decided to get into medicine, much to my father’s disapproval. Eventually had to go into my mother’s trust to pay for it, because he wouldn’t, he was so angry with me.”

“He must be proud of you now,” Brienne said, because who wouldn’t be? Jaime was so good at what he did, even if she never told him before herself. 

Jaime arched a distinctly sardonic eyebrow. “He’d be proud if I was heading up a pharmaceutical company in the Lannister name, expanding us into a whole new industry that we could dominate. Tywin Lannister is not, and never will be, glad that his oldest son chooses to serve the teeming, unwashed masses instead of running a profitable company. Direct quote.”

Brienne frowned. “He sounds - ”

“He’s the worst,” Jaime said with a dark laugh. “Anyway, that day, the day we met…”

It confused her for a second, Jaime’s tale had taken such a strange turn that Brienne had to get her bearings and remember how it had all started. “In the ICU?”

“I didn’t… when I said I was embarrassed, I wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t just that,” Jaime squeezed her hand, his eyes downcast. “Mostly, I was terrified.” 

“Because the case went badly?”

“Because she looked like Genna,” Jaime said with a heavy tone. 

Brienne breathed in sharply.

“Leonella Marbrand, a distant relation I’d bet. Same blonde hair, big bombastic laugh, just like Genna. I saw it from the moment she was wheeled into the ER.”

“Oh.”

“She looked fine, but I ran the tests, saw what was going on under the surface, so we took her in and I did it, I fixed her. I thought I fixed her. I was so fucking proud of myself.” He took a deep breath, blowing out his cheeks and letting it out with a frustrated noise. “Then we transferred her and things went wrong and it was like I was there again, watching Genna go down and everything, _everything_ I thought I knew flew out of my head. I panicked, useless all over again.

“Then before I could spiral anymore, in came this impossibly tall woman, with the presence of the godsdamn Warrior and calm of the Maiden, who told me to shut up and took it all in hand. And I got to watch as you saved her.”

He didn't sound jealous or angry about it, only immensely glad, maybe even a little awed. 

“I see her for follow-ups, Ms. Marbrand, and she always asks about you. She knows as well as I do that she wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t been there,” Jaime finished. 

“You would have gotten it, I know you would,” Brienne said softly, sure of it as anything else she knew. “I’ve seen you in worse situations and pull through those.”

Jaime shook his head again. “Not that time.” 

Perhaps he didn’t believe it, but Brienne did. She scooched closer to him, until their hips and thighs pressed together. She waited until he looked back at her, sliding up the absurdly pink glasses up on his head and then her own, despite the bright sun. It went through her mind again - _I love this man_ \- in all his pride that trended toward arrogance, his self-flagellation over a moment of weakness, the way he’d upended his life to be his own man. 

What he said next had her heart thudding madly. “I may not have fallen in love with you that day, I can’t even say for sure when I did. But I couldn’t stop if I wanted, with all the times you argued back when I pushed, that determined look you get on your face, just promising to prove me wrong, it’s amazing. I couldn’t see you speed past without wanting to stop you in place, to make you see me, too. It made me want to be better, to try harder, to make up for the mess you saw that first day, to be the doctor I promised myself I’d be every time I used to think of Genna. I’d lost sight of it and hadn’t even realized, until I saw you. 

“Damn near broke my heart when I saw you were already with someone, but when I really looked, I saw that I might still have a chance, one day, if I was patient. And now here you are.”

“You’re sure of me,” Brienne said faintly. He was looking at her the way he had from across the crowd; it was not something she could ever deny seeing and knowing. 

“I am.”

“You scare me,” Brienne said honestly, wanting him to know, asking plainly for help.

“Why?” Jaime asked, crestfallen. 

“I’ve never felt about anyone the way I do about you and I’m scared of it ending now that I’ve found it,” Brienne said back.

Jaime’s eyes went dim and worried. “Why does there have to be an end?”

“There’s always been before,” Brienne replied. 

“Can’t it be enough to know that I’m in this for as long as you’ll have me?”

“You say that but-”

“I say it because it’s true-”

“Could you - ” she bit back a sigh and contemplated how to approach what she wanted him to understand, feeling resigned when she came upon it - “just, go with me for a moment, will you?” She waited until he reluctantly nodded. “All right. Patient presents with chest pain, what do you do?”

Jaime’s eyes flew skyward. “Brienne-”

She clutched his hand harder, trying to convey her seriousness through it. “Please.”

“Fine, chest pain. EKG, labs, meds. Assess and treat,” Jaime rattled off. He looked askance at her, obviously perplexed. “You know this.”

“It’s a knee-jerk response,” Brienne replied. “You don’t even have to think about it, do you?”

“I suppose I don’t.”

“That’s,” Brienne girded herself, “that’s exactly what it’s been like for me, all my life. It has been automatic, thinking that the things I want, I won’t have, I can’t have. You said _have a party_ and I thought _why would anyone even come_?”

Brienne saw the moment where it clicked and Jaime’s jaw clenched with understanding, nodding roughly for her to continue. 

“I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I look back and see all the ways I stopped myself from even trying to be happy. And last night, I was able to forget it for a while, to believe what was in front of me. But then I woke up this morning and it was all there, the gut feeling that it’s not meant for me.”

“Brienne.” His voice was kind, almost unbearably so. She turned her face away and closed her eyes. 

“I stayed in a poor relationship for much too long, accepting I wouldn’t find anything better. And I would have stayed in it even longer if I hadn’t looked at myself one day and realized that I’d rather be at the hospital than at home with him. I was more satisfied with my work, as grueling as it can be, than at any other point before. The thought of finding someone like you didn’t even occur to me, I thought I’d found the one thing that would make me happy and it was my job, not a person, not the possibility of someone.

“I can’t help it, Jaime, it’s a reflex that comes from the worst doubts that I always carry, from all the times someone said I was too ugly or boring to get anything better than what I have, the way people treated me like a joke when I dared try to assert myself at my last hospital. You wouldn’t have recognized me there, I was so under the thumb of their damned boy’s club. I’d never been so thankful as the day Catelyn asked me to join her.”

She took in a tremulous breath. “It made sense you hated me because that’s what I was used to. Now you’re telling me that you’ve wanted me almost from that first day, that you want me now and it’s difficult to wrap my head around it. Something inside me says that at any moment, it’ll turn out to be another joke that I never should have believed. I don’t want to think that way, I know it’s pointless, but it’s there.”

When she finally looked back at him, Jaime was turned partly away, his expression set in a furious scowl. Brienne waited, thinking over her words with dejection, knowing she’d told the awful truth of it and disappointed in herself for letting such a useless attitude to persist. 

Worse, she was letting it stop her from trusting what Jaime was offering. 

_Don’t run, don’t hide_, he’d said. Jaime had seen it, even if he couldn’t have known how deep seeded it was. He saw her, too. 

It was the last thought that finally stirred the bravery she’d so astonishingly found the night before. It had her reaching out, touching Jaime’s jaw and gently bringing his face back to mirror her own. “Jaime - ”

“Will you at least tell me a name or two, whatever bastards that made you think-”

“I love you.”

Jaime stopped short. 

“I love you and it won’t magically fix the way I think, my fears, but it’s the truth and I want you to know it,” Brienne told him, her heart fluttering in her chest. Her hands nearly trembled with the terror of it, but nothing would ever change if she hid away. “But if you can be patient with me, maybe I can get past them. Maybe both of us can.”

She swallowed thickly, watching the anger and surprise fade from Jaime’s face, melting into something careful, even reverent.

“You love me,” he finally said, and it made her smile, because she knew he had chosen the words especially. So she chose hers with just as much care. 

“I do, Jaime. Yes.”

He leaned forward and she thought he might kiss her, but instead Jaime touched his forehead to hers. In the narrow space between them, he said, “I can work with that.”

It shouldn’t have been such a relief, but it was. “Yeah?”

“I’ve managed the last couple years on nothing but hope,” Jaime said, and she felt something crack open within her at the way his eyes brightened with happiness. “You loving me back? That’ll carry me for decades.”

And Brienne knew in that instant, deep down, that it was true.


	4. you could build a life with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's chapter song is Don't Make Me Wait by Locksley, prepare to bop around as you listen [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPCPNh19uDw).

“That should be it. Dr. Mormont is the first on-call if you face an emergency, but make sure it’s _real_, you don’t want to poke the bear with something you could have handled yourselves. Keep your beepers on, answer them promptly - don’t ignore them, Dr. Wilder, I know it’s a pain when the nurses ask for an acetaminophen order at two in the morning, but that’s why you’re here - and be ready for rounds at six.”

Ygritte groaned mightily but moved away without further argument. Brienne logged off her computer and gathered up her belongings, smiling as her former interns filtered away from the station. Her phone chimed, revealing a message from Jaime: _heading straight to the house, you free yet?_

_Just finishing up, _she wrote back, _Do I need to pick up anything?_

_stay in your lane, tarth, _came Jaime’s reply, _you have the place, i do everything else, remember?_

Brienne smiled down at her phone before tucking it in her bag. When she glanced around and found Pod waiting with an anxious bounce, she wasn’t the least bit surprised. 

“You’re going to be fine, Dr. Payne,” Brienne said reassuringly. 

“Dr. Mormont is really… just, intense,” Pod replied, pulling a face. “She made Lommy cry once.”

Lommy cried a lot and, as far as Brienne was concerned, it was better that he’d transferred to a scientific research position. But she only said, rather diplomatically, “You all made it through your internship and now you’re residents. It’s harder, but I wouldn’t have recommended your advancement if I didn’t think you could withstand it.”

“I know that, I know,” Pod straightened his shoulders and set his jaw with a resolved air, “and thank you, I won’t let you down - ”

“No, you won’t,” Brienne said simply. 

Arya walked back up, her expression stormy. “I just got an emergent page. For an enema.”

Brienne’s smile wobbled with a barely restrained laugh at the massive outrage in the younger woman’s voice. “Welcome to your residency, Dr. Stark.”

“I knew I should have gone into plastics,” Arya muttered viciously, “but no, be inspired by the giant woman, go with internal medicine. _Moron_.”

“There’s nothing stopping you from pursuing it, though I’d be sorry to see you go. But plastics shares a common core with internal med, you could still specialize in the future. It might make you even better at both one day,” Brienne replied. Arya considered that with a frown but then her face broke out with glee and she pointed at the computer next to Brienne. “It’s back!”

Brienne turned and put her fingers to her mouth to keep from cackling. _It_ was indeed back, as someone had once again slipped a copy of Ramsay Bolton’s mugshot into the hospital-wide screensaver. He had a massive black eye and an apoplectic sneer on his face, likely the expression he’d been making since he was arrested, tried, and sentenced for a myriad of crimes, not the least of which included his assault on Jeyne. There was no chance of him being hired back at the hospital since he was in jail for the foreseeable future, but someone obviously thought a periodic reminder of the creep at his lowest was necessary. 

“Who keeps doing that?” Pod said in awe.

“I swear, it has to be Jaquen in IT, even though he denies it. That man is the ultimate internet troll and I respect that,” Arya announced. 

“Varys will get it pulled down soon enough.” Their head of HR had done so in the past, but only after a long stretch in which both the day and night shifts were able to view it. For a man who had sent out a general reprimanding email - both polite and cutting - in the wake of Brienne’s party, chastising those who posted heedlessly to social media, he certainly let a lot of things slide. And it didn’t stop anyone from tacking up pictures of a beer-ponging Oberyn or tipsily half-naked Robb in the doctor’s lounge and swiftly replacing them every time Catelyn took them down with a long-suffering groan.

(_“Just imagine, me in Braavos at that blasted medical conference just watching photo after photo after photo coming up on Ravenbook.” Catelyn tore up the third copy she’d found in the lounge, her infuriated voice sending many a fellow doctor scurrying away. “I couldn’t concentrate on my speech knowing that my son was making a damned fool of himself across the sea.”_

_Brienne grimaced with apology. “We really didn’t expect things to get so-”_

“_And then you, with Dr. Lannister!” Ah, so she’d seen that one. Neither she nor Jaime had realized that their quiet moment behind Lancel’s station had been caught on camera, not until someone put it up online with the words IT’S HAPPENING emblazoned underneath. They weren’t tagged and no amount of editing could completely disperse the hazy shadows, but it was unmistakably them, wrapped up in one another. The comments on it were… illuminating. “When were you going to tell me about that?”_

_“Well, that’s what I was going to-”_

_The door to the lounge opened and in walked Robb, who immediately paled and tried to flee when he saw his mother. _

_“Robb Torrhen Stark, don’t you **dare**, come back here young man…”_

_It wasn’t her most mature decision, but Brienne made a break for it while she still could.)_

“Anyway, I’ve got to get going.” Brienne slung her bag over her shoulder and checked her watch. “Can’t be late.”

“Late? It’s still daylight out, where else would you be but here?” Arya asked skeptically as she viciously jabbed at her beeper again.

“I’ve got plans,” Brienne said vaguely.

“She’s having a party.” 

Pod caught Brienne’s flat glare and immediately attempted to retract his statement, to no avail. He was stuttering out a that he was mistaken, but Arya’s head had already snapped up. “WHAT?” 

“Yeah, what?” Ygritte poked her head out from around the corner. “The return of Party Animal Tarth and we’re stuck _here?”_

“It’s not a party,” Brienne said tightly. She was going to kill Jaime for perpetuating that nickname, it had stuck in a way she still hadn’t been able to shake off all these months later. “It’s dinner. A small gathering.”

“That’s code for party,” Arya argued back, “I can’t believe you didn’t invite us.”

“It’s literally less than a dozen people. Believe me, I pared down the list this time. Besides, your _mother_ is going, what do you expect to happen?”

Arya deflated. “Well, nothing fun if she’s there.”

“Hey,” Brienne said defensively. 

“Sorry,” Pod whispered. 

“And here I thought you knew how to keep a secret,” Brienne muttered in his direction and Pod’s face pinked with embarrassment. And, as it happened every time, Brienne couldn’t help softening towards her favorite resident. “I’ll see you in the morning. You’re going to do great, I know it.”

“Have some wine for me!” Ygritte shouted after her, her voice carrying easily through the ICU. 

Brienne covered her face with her hand, but gave up for the time being. They may now be the residents and she the attending, but she clearly still had a lot to teach them.

Discretion was definitely at the top of the list. 

###### 

The drive home was uneventful, at least, and she made it with plenty of time to spare, though Jaime’s car was already in her driveway. As far as she was aware, they had more than an hour before the food was delivered - she and Jaime were skilled in many ways, but the culinary arts were not one of them - and another half hour until the arrival of guests after that. Jaime had tried to enlist Pia and Peck again, but as one of them was the official guest of honor, Brienne had insisted that they should be free from any responsibilities for once. 

(“_But they’re so good at it,” he’d protested._

_“Jaime, we are literally celebrating Pia getting into the physician assistant program, you can’t be serious.”)_

Catelyn and Ned were coming, as were Sansa and Margaery. Their guest list was rounded out by Renly, Loras, Tyrion and Bronn. An odd assortment, but all people that Pia had met over the course of their friendship and struck a bond with. Sansa and Margaery had absorbed Pia into their group after they’d watched from Brienne’s kitchen window and cheered when Brienne and Jaime finally sorted themselves out, while Loras had scooped Peck up much as he did Lancel to work in his club. Meeting Catelyn had been a natural extension of Pia’s friendship with Sansa and it was the Stark matron who finally convinced her to apply to the program. 

Brienne strongly suspected that Catelyn meant to keep the girl for herself when she eventually graduated, but it was well known that Jaime had called dibs on making Pia his PA. He said it often enough anyway.

“Jaime?” Brienne called out as she walked in, closing the door against the slightly chilly breeze that attempted to follow. He didn’t answer, but the living room bore traces of his presence, from the loafers discarded by the entry, the half empty travel mug on the entry table and his coat thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch. She picked it up and hung it beside hers in the front closet after tossing her keys in the ludicrously fancy glass cut bowl that Jaime had set there several weeks before. 

(“_I was going to put up a hook,” Brienne told him as he set the bowl on one end of the table, scrutinized it and then moved it to the other side, “I’m fine with a hook.”_

_“And I’m fine with digging this out of storage and laughing every time you put your keys or spare change in it because I know somewhere out there, my father’s eye is twitching and he doesn’t know why,” Jaime replied. _

_“I’m going to end up knocking it over one of these days,” Brienne nodded grimly, “I know it.”_

_“Even better! Take a picture when you do.”)_

Brienne made her way to the kitchen, where Jaime finally came into view through the back window; she sighed in reluctant amusement as she watched him arrange outdoor heat lamps - she had not owned any before this day, but definitely did now, she was certain - in separate corners of the patio, the center of which held a long table and chairs. 

Brienne crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the countertop, taking him in. Dr. Jaime Lannister, cardiologist. Intelligent, handsome, an outright pain in the ass and her boyfriend.

It’d taken time to adopt the title, to speak it aloud. Not that she hadn’t felt it all the while, but they’d done some purposeful backtracking since the morning after the party. They’d gone on actual dates, some in nice restaurants and others just splitting a bagel from the cafeteria before being pulled in opposite directions. It was a toss up as to which Brienne actually preferred, but as long as the company was the same, she had no complaints. 

A battle had warred within her in the beginning, the old doubts pitted against their new relationship. Jaime’s voice could lull her to sleep every night on the phone, but come morning she’d wake with that twist in her stomach, wondering if that was the day he’d wash his hands of her, having finally seen how odd they looked together, or realized that all the things he’d thought he’d seen in her were just that, in his head. 

But then she would lift her phone and find his morning text, go to work and see his smiling face in the hall and the horrible unease slowly, slowly, _slowly_ started to dissipate. Because, when it came down to it, Jaime was the same Jaime he had been before. 

He still slipped muesli bars into her pocket, but added a quick graze of his fingers over her shoulder as he moved away. He still texted her regarding which patient she needed to follow up on, then added a message that he couldn’t wait to see her that night. He still waited for her at the nurses station while she assessed his consults and then pestered her until she was ready to leave. With him, these days.

None of it felt out of place, it felt as if it had been waiting to come out all along. Jaime had just been waiting for her to catch up. 

(_“He’s very good looking,” Mrs. Swyft told her, adjusting the oxygen tubing on her face and nodding significantly at where Jaime was standing by the station, playfully twiddling his thumbs, “I have a granddaughter that would like him very much. If I were thirty years younger…”_

_“Deep breath in and slowly out,” Brienne answered and ran her stethoscope over her new patient’s chest, “we’re almost done.”_

_“You can tell me,” the older woman said slyly, “is he attached? If he doesn’t like my granddaughter, I have a nephew that might catch his attention.”_

_Brienne looped her stethoscope in her pocket and tried to put on an apologetic expression. “I don’t discuss my coworkers private lives, sorry.” _

_But, _yes_, she wanted to tell her, _he’s taken_.)_

They slept together more than a month after the party, the time in between filled with lingering kisses and frustrated nights after going their separate ways. Brienne had let Margaery and Sansa drag her along to buy expensive, mildly embarrassing lingerie and she didn’t have the heart to tell them that it was for nothing. Instead of a well planned night with a romantic dinner and Jaime’s superfluous attempts at seduction, they had been leisurely making out on her couch on an early Tuesday evening when suddenly her shirt was gone, as was his, then his mouth was in between her legs as he shoved down his jeans, getting them only halfway to his knees before he sank into her for the first time. She still had a mark on the back of her thigh from where his zipper had sawed against her skin in time with his frenzied thrusts. 

It was messy and rushed and exactly them. Brienne wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world. 

There wasn’t anything at all she would want to change, not their first time on the couch or the first time she woke beside him in bed and stayed. She wouldn’t change Jaime’s cutting humor or mischievous flirting or even his strangest impulses, like buying heat lamps on the first cool day of the year.

But she wouldn’t tell him that, for her own peace of mind. 

Brienne tapped on the windowpane to get his attention and cocked her head when he turned in her direction. They had a silent conversation where she eyed the lamps with exaggerated annoyance and Jaime shot back a sharp, unrepentant smirk, then he motioned at the table, with its empty place settings and Brienne gave him a polite clap from where she stood. 

(_“I definitely remember telling you that dinner parties are the worst.”_

_“And I didn’t think that I’d throw a party that anyone would want to attend and now HR is trying to put a rule in their handbook about non-hospital functions and naming it after me. Things change.”_

_“I still say it should be called the Lannister Addendum,” Jaime replied crossly as he laid out on her bed. _

_“Next time maybe.” Brienne dug into her bedside drawer, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper. She laid down at an angle to him, using his stomach as a surface to write and looked at him expectantly. “Tell me all the worst things you’ve seen at a dinner party.”_

_Jaime groaned and Brienne placed an arm across his lower abdomen to keep him from squirming. “Fine, fancy tablecloths. Expensive glassware. Name cards, gods help me, fucking name cards.”_

_“Got it,” Brienne wrote them down and then tapped the pen, “what else?”_

_“Forced mingling beforehand, with really fucking awful music, classical shit.”_

_“I like classical music.” She hadn’t brought her albums out of exile yet, but she did._

_“But will you have an actual pianist playing on a baby grand in the corner?”_

_“Erm, no.”_

_“That’s something at least.” Jaime huffed out a breath. “Teeny-tiny meals made by a supposedly impressive chef in the kitchen. Flowers, huge flower displays that you have to look around to talk to people. Last time, Cersei had us come in black-tie, that was the final straw.”_

_Brienne wrote each of them in her neat, precise writing, an anomaly in the world of physicians. “So as long as we avoid any of these, you’ll be happy?”_

_“Happy is such a strong word.”_

_“Hey.” Brienne tossed the paper aside and set her chin on his abdomen. “Trust me, we’ll make it work.”)_

Brienne trailed back through the house, giving it one more look over to find anything out of place and went up to her room once she was satisfied with was she saw. The unmade bed in the bedroom was another thing entirely, as was the closet with two sets of clothes jockeying for dominance, her sensible slacks and button up tops shoved aside to make way for Jaime’s countless jeans, wide array of shirts and sweaters and shoes. There was one leather jacket that she liked to steal for herself, but Jaime always managed to get it back on his side.

His side.

The question, her request, had been on the forefront of her mind for a few days, but it wasn’t any sort of nervousness that was keeping her from asking it. Between preparing for the dinner and getting called to work at odd hours, Brienne hadn’t found a sensible moment to ask Jaime if he wanted to move in, officially. As it was, they hardly spent any time in his apartment to begin with, it was a strangely cold and impersonal space that was professionally decorated with clean lines and high art, but nothing that attested to Jaime’s personality. That was restricted to his bedroom, of which most of the contents had managed to find its way into hers over a matter of months.

By all accounts, they were already living together, but she wanted to be the one to ask, to tell Jaime that she wanted him, in her home, all the time. 

Jaime had - _damn him how did he do that_ \- managed to walk into the bedroom without notice while she’d been lost in thought, making her jump when he wrapped his arms around her from behind. “You can’t be mad about the heaters, you said you wanted to eat outside.”

“That was before the cold came in. We could have just moved everyone inside.” Brienne’s protest was hollow, but a habit nevertheless. “We have the space for it.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t have been the same, no view of the lake, waste of the lights we put up yesterday…”

Brienne turned in his arms. “If you say so.”

“Well it was that and maybe,” Jaime ran his fingers over the collar of her shirt in a familiar and enticing way, “we can enjoy being outside, too, on occasion.”

She immediately knew what he meant and felt her cheeks flame at the mention. It had taken some convincing on Jaime’s part, and then moonless nights to boot, but they’d had a few evenings where they’d bypassed the bed, or anywhere in the house for that matter, dragged out a couple blankets and enjoyed one another on the dock. Brienne could be quiet if she put her mind to it, but after the third time Jaime’s loud moans echoed over the water, despite her attempts to cover his mouth, they’d stuck to the safety of the patio if they wanted to scratch that outdoor itch. But even that would have to be suspended because of the oncoming winter, or so she had thought. 

“You’re incorrigible,” she told him. Jaime only grinned widely.

The fondness, the helpless affection she felt any time she looked or even thought of him finally brought the question to her lips. “This morning, before your pager went off, I was going to-”

“Have your way with me?” Jaime asked, coming closer to tease her lips with his own. “I wouldn’t have argued. I should quit, then I can stay here all day until you have need of me.”

Brienne chuckled against his mouth, kissing him back slowly before saying, “You’d miss it too much, you’re too good at what you do.”

“I’m good at doing yo-”

Brienne put a hand over his mouth and Jaime’s eyes danced with laughter. He pulled her hand away and kissed her again, guiding her back with him until they fell headlong onto the bed together. Any thoughts or questions flew out of her head as Jaime tugged at her shirt and then slipped his hand in her pants, kneading her ass. Brienne writhed against him, likely not very helpful as he tried to remove her clothes, but she made quick work of his once she realized his success. 

Considering the amount of times they’d been naked together, Brienne had lost all sense of shyness around him, but the lust in Jaime’s gaze as he took her in still made her shiver, had her getting wet with astounding speed. They wrestled a little, back and forth on the bed until Jaime was flat on his back and Brienne drifted down, taking him into her mouth and humming contentedly when Jaime started his telltale pattering, his voice a slightly higher pitch as he crooned, “Gods, that’s it, that’s it, OH, Brienne, fuck-”

If she had time, when they had time, Brienne drew it out, used her mouth and tongue and hands on his dick and balls, stroked behind them and up into him, making him cry out as loud as possible. There was no shame in it, like she’d once thought when she’d reviewed her knowledge of anatomy in comparison to articles in magazines with glamorous models on the front, the kind she’d read in secret when she’d thought of trying to save an old relationship. Brienne had never braved it with anyone else, but Jaime was more than eager to spread his legs apart, to run a hand through her hair, to put the other to her face and feel his cock slide between her lips as she brought him pleasure from outside and within. When they had time, she did it again and again.

It couldn’t be one of those times now, not with the plans they had, so Brienne broke away from him, taking in air with a gasp and pushing at Jaime to move back in the bed until his back was against the headboard. He was murmuring nonsense under his breath, his chest moving heavily and a rare flush on his face as she approached, gliding her hand along his cock until she was directly above it and then took him in with one long, filling stroke. 

They’d been together so many different ways, but this… this she loved the most. Brienne set her skin against Jaime’s, pulling him in tightly as she adjusted to the sublime, profound space he took inside her. Her thighs went around his hips, Jaime’s face in her chest as she pulsed up and down slowly, relishing in the drag of his open mouth on her breasts, up to the hollow of her throat and back. 

He reached up and angled her face down, kissing her desperately as he tried to push up against her, to get as deep as he could, the solid press of his pelvic bone moving directly against her clit and making her whimper from the back of her throat. They moved in tandem, rocking together even faster; he kept one hand at her cheek, but the other wrapped around her to grasp at her opposite shoulder as he tried to pull her down impossibly more to meet him, the corded muscles of his forearm tight against her back. 

She came on a slow cresting wave that started between her legs where she clenched and spasmed on Jaime’s cock, but then it rippled and crashed out, making her thighs and abdominal muscles seize, her breasts tighten and tingle, her arms convulse where they held Jaime close and a long, throaty moan emerged from her mouth, her head tipped back with it, beyond her control. Jaime’s buried his face in her neck and the only sound she could discern was his voice saying, _yes, yes, oh, you’re so good, you’re so good for me, Brienne, _gasping when said his name back on a long sigh. 

Jaime was careful and controlled when he eased her down, staying inside of her as he laid her out beneath him, still quivering from her orgasm. He pulled back and thrust in with single-minded purpose, prolonging the aftershocks, keeping her in a heightened state of pleasure as he finally pursued his own. Brienne’s legs went around his thighs, just loose enough for Jaime to retreat and then drive into her, the clapping sounds of their bodies colliding coming faster and faster as Brienne found the presence of mind to kiss Jaime’s frantically jabbering mouth, swallowing his groans and plaintive begging. 

He came with several body-quaking jolts, the muscles of his back jerking under her hands, his mouth breaking free of hers to say _fuck, yes, so fucking good, Brienne _and melted into a whine when she brought their lips together again. Then he collapsed against her and she clasped him firmly; they panted against each other’s ears, murmuring _I love you, I love you so much_, both of them. 

They laid there for several minutes, bodies cooling and muscles relaxing, Brienne using her fingertips to scratch at Jaime’s scalp as he pressed soft, deliberate kisses to her brow and cheek, her jaw and chin, kissing her lips once more before pulling out of her and slumping to one side, half his body still covering hers. 

It was a few minutes more and then he said, “Yeah, I’d say that’s worth leaving medicine behind.”

Brienne laughed - loudly, absurdly, so fucking in love - her chest shaking as she nearly cried with it. She looked over to see Jaime’s wide, delighted grin and then brought her face to his, saying, “I love you, you _complete_ idiot.”

“I love you, too. I won’t call you an idiot, though, I’m the nice one.”

“Move in with me,” Brienne said and she bit her lip when Jaime’s eyes lit up. 

“What’s that?”

“Move in, live here. With me. I want you here, all the time.” She couldn’t say it more plainly, even though she knew he was teasing her. 

“I’m already here, all the time.” He pasted a look of patently false concentration on his face. “I could have sworn I woke up here this morning. And yesterday. All week, actually. And the week before-”

Brienne gently put a palm to his cheek and then shoved him off, rolling her eyes as she stood from the bed. Jaime let her go, laughing as he landed on his back, sprawling out on the tangled linens. 

“You know what I mean, Jaime.”

“Seems like we’ve already ticked off a lot of boxes. I’ve got a key-”

“That you found in my satchel and then yelled out _I’ve got you now _when you stole it.”

“-a lot of my things are already here-”

“How do you have more clothes than I do?”

“-I’ve even started decorating-”

“You mounted a godsdamn sword on my wall, who does that?”

_(“A sword, Jaime?” Brienne dropped her bag down on the coffee table, baffled at finding Jaime on a stepladder with a drill in one hand and the other precariously balancing the blade against the wall. “You’re going to maim yourself if you’re not careful.”_

_Jaime gave her a sharp grin as he drilled in another hook. Brienne could only shake her head as he nodded with satisfaction at the results of his work and jumped down off the ladder. “I just kept looking at this patch and it was missing something.”_

_“And the answer was medieval weaponry, naturally,” Brienne said dryly._

_“Come on, you have to admit that it looks cool,” Jaime needled at her. “It didn’t look right at my place, but this is the perfect spot, right above the hearth.”_

_“You’re a lunatic.” Brienne had to admit, though, it was eye-catching and added a certain something to her otherwise plain sitting area. “I did used to fence once upon a time, you know.”_

_Jaime’s eyebrows flew up. “I did not.”_

_“Mmm,” Brienne pursed her lips when Jaime’s expression grew more intrigued. “High school, some in college.”_

_“So you know how to use it,” he replied, a sliver of heat in his voice. _

_“I bet I could remember if I tried,” Brienne couldn’t help her teasing tone, especially as Jaime edged closer, “though I used an épée instead of a broadsword.”_

_“**Épée.”**_

_Brienne hummed again. _

_“What else? Share this vast fencing knowledge with me.”_

_“There’s so much,” Brienne said wonderingly, pretending she didn’t know exactly what Jaime was getting at, “passing backwards, passing forwards, coulé, reposte, to lunge…”_

_Jaime’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, keep going.”_

_She could feel a playful giggle building in her chest. “I can still name the parts of the sword: the blade, the guard and pommel make up the hilt-”_

_“You’re fucking killing me.” He was only an arms length away. “What do you say in the beginning, to start off a... what do you call it?”_

_"A match." Brienne let a slow grin slip across her face. “Allez.”_

_She yelped, loudly, when he tackled her onto the couch.)_

He pounced on her again, lightning quick, pulling her onto the bed and caging her in with his arms and legs. “You had that key made for me, just admit it already.”

Brienne stuck out her chin, refusing to answer even as she held in a laugh.

“And you love the sword.”

“I will admit no such thing.”

“You love me.”

“That is true.” Anything else she attempted to say was impeded when a Jaime leaned in to kiss her, thoroughly. Her brain was cloudy when he retreated to grin down at her. “Then, yes, I’ll move in. I can’t think of what could be missing, but maybe there’s some lint in the dryer that I can bring with me. Anything else I want is already here.”

Brienne brought him in one more time, stretching up to kiss him and let out a little _oof_ when Jaime purposefully dropped down onto her, laughing into her mouth as he did so. 

“You ass,” she mumbled against his lips. 

“I live here now, no take backs.” Jaime pecked her lips one last time and stood. “Last one to the shower gets all the cold water.”

“You take all the hot water anyway,” Brienne yelled at his back, “I’m starting to regret this.”

“Lies,” Jaime shouted in reply from the bathroom, “but fine, my housewarming gift to us? A new water heater. Way better than a candle.”

Brienne dropped her head back and grinned at the ceiling. 

###### 

They’d learned a dance in all the mornings spent together and they repeated it now. Jaime washed up while Brienne pulled clothes out of the closet and then attempted to untangle her hair from sleep or their tumbling around; if he’d irritated her particularly well, she flushed the toilet while he was still in the shower. When they traded places, Jaime shaved and got dressed, usually sitting to the side of the sink when Brienne emerged, making lewd comments and pretending to try to see up her towel. Then he’d complain good-naturedly when she used his face moisturizer, but ended his teasing with a kiss to the top of her spine and left so she could dress in peace. 

They put their practice to good use while getting ready for the dinner party, though Brienne was cutting it a little close in the end. By the time she made it downstairs, the food had been delivered and Hot Pie was in the kitchen, instructing Jaime on how to handle the warmers underneath the dishes. He was still working at the hospital, but apparently had a side business he was trying to get up and running; Jaime had been glad to order what he called _real food for once_ instead of anything overelaborate. 

Brienne thanked him and took the small pile of business cards he offered before seeing him out, returning to find Jaime lifting lids and sampling freely. 

“I have the best ideas,” he told her, his voice muffled by a mouthful of food. 

“I seem to recall having to persuade someone into having this dinner.” The list had barely been enough, but a blow job had sealed the deal, though she’d enjoyed that just as much as he had. “I wonder who that was?”

Jaime passed her a forkful of pasta from another container and Brienne moaned as she tasted it. “Oh, gods, that’s good.”

“Right?” Jaime closed the lids with obvious reluctance. “The cafeteria’s going to lose him pretty soon, I’m sure of it. Where am I going to get muffins for you when he goes?”

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” Brienne said absently, checking the rest of the trays to find all that Hot Pie had promised: roasted meats and vegetables, the pasta, soft rolls, and a crisp, colorful salad that she stored in the fridge until everyone arrived. There were two pies already inside, chocolate meringue and apricot, and her mouth watered at the sight of them. “Scratch that, we need to go to any lengths to keep him.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Jaime promised. 

They worked together to set out napkins, plates and utensils, lining them up in a row on the kitchen island with the intention of allowing their guests to serve themselves before going outside to enjoy the warmth, good company and a hopefully spectacular sunset. 

“This is going to go so great,” Brienne murmured happily to herself. Jaime, of course, heard her and smiled broadly. 

“Oh, wait, got something,” he said suddenly and then pulled out his phone, tapping along the surface; music started playing on the speakers discreetly placed around the house and out on the patio - Jaime’s handiwork, yet again. 

The music was slow and rhythmic for a handful of beats before moving into something slightly quicker and energetic that made Brienne want to bob her head along. It became bright and buoyant, but Jaime kept the volume low enough that it wasn’t blaring and she could already imagine it playing during the evening, a joyful undercurrent to their guests’ conversation. She nodded with the beat for several moments before looking at him and saying, “Nice pick.”

“A DJ Landeux original,” Jaime replied. “Just for us, as a thank you, according to him.”

“He’s really good.”

“Yeah,” Jaime didn’t look so surprised by his cousin’s success anymore, he might have even been pleased, “he is.”

Brienne waited for it.

“But don’t tell him I said that.”

There it was. 

Shaking her head with a laugh, Brienne moved to open the few wine bottles they’d agreed on, vintages that met Tyrion’s approval but weren’t so expensive that they were intimidating to drink. She was setting out stemless wine glasses when the doorbell rang and Jaime said he’d get it, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed.

Brienne watched as he walked away, unable to keep from smiling at him, at them, at everything. 

Jaime looked back at her one more time, his face open and so full of love that she could hardly bear it. Then he opened the door and said, “Hey, come on in! Welcome to our home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Whew! To K, I'm so glad I met you - I went looking for a beta and found an amazing friend, as well. All the apricot pies in the world to you, you fabulous woman. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading, hitting the kudos button and - wonderfully, amazingly - leaving comments. I cherish each and every single one of them.


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